


Paper Possibilities

by lavieenbelle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bellatrix Black Lestrange Lives, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Dialogue Heavy, Endgame Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Eventual Smut, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Not Beta Read, Not Epilogue Compliant, Severus Snape Lives, Slow Burn, To Be Edited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 40
Words: 84,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29528160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavieenbelle/pseuds/lavieenbelle
Summary: ❝ here she was, tying daisiesinto chains and foldingroses into weapons.❞Harry Potter has defeated Voldemort, good has prevailed, and all is well.Until it isn't.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

" _Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light_."

\- Albus Dumbledore

The wreckage looked better in the moonlight. Under the night sky, it was poetic; romantic, even. Hermione would never say so aloud, of course, out of respect for her fallen classmates, teachers, and friends. She would also never say that some part of her envied those who hadn't made it to the end, but to some degree, she wished she could rest, thinking that her sacrifice had meant something.

As the sun rose in the east, reality set on her shoulders. It was no longer morbidly beautiful; it made her feel ill. The sunshine and the birds and the morning breeze had no right to disturb the dead.

Focus, she reminded herself for what must have been the hundredth time. _Tears will do you no good._

The quiet patter of feet echoed in the hallway. Hermione froze and held her breath as the footfall crescendoed, nearing her. She bit her lip to keep herself from casting a Stunning Spell at the raven-haired, hooded-eyed witch. Hermione shivered as Bellatrix skipped past her. That maniacal cackle would haunt her for years.

Hermione had cast a disillusionment charm over herself, but she hadn't eaten in hours, hadn't slept in nearly two days, and her magic was growing weaker by the second. Anything less than complete focus, and she would immediately lose her cover. She followed the three Death Eaters: Bellatrix, Antonin Dolohov, and Corban Yaxley. According to the Marauder's Map, which she had stashed in her purse, they were the last ones in the castle. She waited for the deafening crack that signified their apparition.

She was completely alone now.

She wasn't quite sure why the apparition wards had faded during the battle. Perhaps the castle itself was mourning. Without its students, Hogwarts was little more than stone and glass.

With a sigh, Hermione fell against the brick wall and dropped her disillusionment charm. She savored the sharp thud on her shoulder, hoping it would wake her up. She ran through the list of places Ron and Harry could have gone after they left. The Burrow was too obvious. No doubt someone from the Ministry would be there within the hour to collect Harry and Hermione. Grimmauld Place was just as predictable; at this point, any of the Death Eaters could know about it.

How long would they wait before coming back for her?

 _They wouldn't return_. She asked them not to; they would listen. At least not until they could be sure the Death Eaters were gone and the muggles in Hogsmeade wouldn't turn them in. She couldn't wait that long.

The stone felt heavy in her pocket as she ran her fingers over it. It was incredibly stupid of her to return for it; she should have left with Harry, but now that she had it, there was no way in hell she was letting anyone else get their hands on it.

She glanced out over Hogwarts' grounds. Beyond these walls was a country of people who were indoctrinated into thinking she was the enemy. The Minister of Magic imperiused the muggle Prime Minister into making a statement that muggleborn and half-blood wizards were attempting to seize control of both governments and establish a totalitarian regime. Soon after, Harry and Hermione found wanted posters with their faces hanging across London.

Voldemort's act of exposing the Wizarding World was his final Horcrux. He was gone, but his spirit wouldn't die until the movement for pureblood supremacy was vanquished.

The sun inched above the horizon, cresting over the turret of Gryffindor tower and illuminating the courtyard where Hermione stood.

 _Right_ , she thought. _No more hiding in the shadows_. With a renewed sense of purpose, she strode back inside with her head held high, until a small figure darted across her path. A squeak escaped Hermione's lips and her cheeks reddened, even though no one was around to see it.

 _Mrs. Norris_. Hermione was a _Gryffindor_ , for goodness sake. After everything she'd been through, she was not going to be scared by a bloody cat.

She kept her head down as she trekked through the main corridor. She would not waste time lamenting what used to be. In her periphery, she noticed suits of armor scattered about the floor. Most of the portraits lining the walls were empty. Some portraits were crying. Fewer were letting out cries of victory. One yelled out "Down with Mudbloods!" as she passed. Her hand instinctively gripped her left wrist.

The slur was better than the oppressive silence. It gave her something to be angry about. She had heard far worse, but the taunt echoed in her ears as she dragged her feet up the staircase, one step at a time. Had there always been this many damn steps?

At last, she reached the top. As she ran down the barren hallway, she pulled out the Marauders Map, to make sure hers was still the only name on the parchment. When she reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, she paced back and forth, three times, growing more and more anxious with each step.

_I need the room where things are hidden._

It was a longshot, considering the room had gone up in flames less than twelve hours ago, but it was something to keep her moving.

She had to keep moving.

As expected, when she opened the door, she was met with piles of rubble and ash. The smell of smoke hung heavy in the air, and she covered her mouth with her tattered shirt to keep from choking. The effects of the fiendfyre had worn off, but the room was still sticky with heat. Most of the objects were burnt beyond recognition. A few pieces of furniture were still standing, but Hermione could have reduced them to dust if she breathed too heavily in their direction. Only one wooden structure remained, fully intact: the Vanishing Cabinet.

With Hogwart's protective enchantments down, the Room of Requirement was one of the only secure places in the castle, but as long as the cabinet still stood against the far wall, any Death Eater could enter through its sister in Knockturn Alley. If only there were a way to test if it was still functioning without compromising her position.

"Reducto," she said, her voice coarse. The tip of her wand lit, but the cabinet remained. " _Diffindo_." Her breath shortened and her voice tightened. " _Confringo_!" The cabinet did not even quake. " _Bombarda_!"

"It's not going to work."

Hermione spun around, her wand still raised. _"Incarcerous_!" she shouted before she recognized the face before her. Her mind may have been lagging, but her instincts knew that that pallid visage and peroxide-blonde hair only meant one thing: trouble.

Almost lazily, he blocked the hex without a word and returned a silent spell. Before Hermione could throw up a shield charm, her wand was flung from her hand. She blamed her lack of sleep for her momentary inability to cast wordless spells. She dropped to her knees to retrieve her wand and when she stood up again, Malfoy's wand was at her throat.


	2. Chapter 2

_"I don't go looking for trouble, trouble usually finds me."_

—Harry Potter

"What are you still doing here?" Draco Malfoy's voice was hoarse, void of his usual honeyed arrogance.

"Trying to reverse the damage you've done," she said, struggling to keep her voice even. Hermione, without lowering her chin, glanced down at his wand. She forced her shoulders down and restrained her breathing. He would not get the satisfaction of seeing her lose her nerves. "Either hex me now or kindly remove your wand from my neck, Malfoy."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, but he lowered his wand. He jerked his head at the Cabinet. "I've been trying to destroy it for hours," he said and ran a hand through his hair. Hermione took note of the shadows beneath his eyes, his tie, loose at the base of his throat, and his chapped lips.

"Why?" she asked. Her fingers tightened around her wand. She trained her eyes intently on Draco's hands, in case he made another move towards her. "I thought you and your Death Eater family would be out finding some kittens to kick or something."

He clenched his jaw, glaring at her. "I am not a Death Eater."

"The mark on your arm says otherwise."

"Shut up, Granger." He lifted his wand, but immediately turned away and used it to scratch his head. "Where's Potter? Don't you usually follow him around like a puppy?"

Hermione's temper was shorter than usual. At the sound of her best friend's name coming out of his filthy mouth, Hermione felt a tempest of rage swell in her gut. She raised her wand. " _Expulso!_ "

Once again, Malfoy blocked her spell with a wordless shield charm before shoving her against the Vanishing Cabinet. He kept her pinned with one arm across her shoulders and pressed his wand against her stomach. "Try that again. You will not live to tell the story."

She summoned every ounce of strength she had left and shoved him off of her. Satisfaction rose in her as he stumbled backward. "Spoken like a true Death Eater." Hermione slowly maneuvered herself so her back was no longer against a wall. Despite spending the better half of the last year being hunted, she never quite got used to the punitive nature of physical vulnerability. The sharp curve of Draco's smirk told her he'd noticed her discomfort, but he didn't say anything. When it became clear he wasn't going to offer a snarky reply, she said, "Fine. I'll leave you to it. Give my love to Auntie Bella."

She contemplated her next move as she made her way to the door. Maybe there was something in the kitchens for her to eat. Then, she could take a nap in the Gryffindor Common Room before beginning her search for Harry and Ron. It wasn't ideal, to sleep there when the castle's magic had so drastically changed. But her options were limited and she had to sleep somewhere.

"She killed my father," Malfoy said as she reached the exit.

She dropped her hand from the handle. "Bellatrix did?" Hermione glanced over her shoulder. His head hung, and he was twisting a ring around his finger.

He nodded, his jaw set. "I am not one of them."

"I'm sorry. About your father." She pushed against the door, but couldn't bring herself to leave yet. "And I don't know where Harry is." Her eyes scanned the floor surrounding Malfoy's feet, avoiding his eyes. "To answer your question. I don't know what I'm still doing here."

He swallowed. It was a rare moment of understanding between the two of them, but the tension felt thicker than ever before. "Well, good luck with everything," he said finally.

"Yeah. You as well," she said and turned her back on him, for what she thought would be the last time.

 _You're an idiot_ , she thought to herself as she descended another staircase. She supposed that with the wards down, she could have apparated, but she hoped the walk would help her clear her head. _You should have oblivated him_. Part of her wanted to turn around and make him forget her, in case Bellatrix came back and he gave her away. She resisted the urge; there were more important things on her agenda.

By now, the sun had fully risen and a tepid glow lit the hallways of the ground floor. This time, she didn't resist looking at the damage to the walls and statues, but she still took the long way to the kitchens to avoid passing the Great Hall. She was holding tightly to the memories of the people who had become her family. It might have made her a coward, but she wasn't ready to tarnish those memories with the sight of the empty bodies that had been left behind. Besides, she'd heard their screams during the battle; she didn't need the see their scars.

The kitchen was empty. Hermione hoped that all the house-elves had made it out. She didn't have the emotional bandwidth to consider the alternative. Luckily, the shelves were still stocked with sandwiches and pasties and butterbeer. As she hoisted herself onto the counter to indulge, she recalled her last interaction with Harry and Ron.

The three of them should have made a plan days ago, in case they were separated. They could have designated a meeting point or used the charmed galleons from their fifth year to signal when it was safe to send a message with a Patronus. Hermione had been too confident in her intelligence and not confident enough in Harry's. And Ron's, she corrected herself. Ron had proven himself more than capable of keeping up with the two of them. It wasn't fair of her to leave him out.

Regardless, her impulsivity proved to be a disastrous decision. And all she got out of it was a stupid rock she didn't even care about.

For a brief moment, she considered fleeing to Australia. If she could track down her parents, there was a chance she could get them to remember her. No Muggle universities would accept a student who had dropped out of wizarding school at age seventeen, but she was bright enough to make a career for herself without traditional schooling. She could fake certifications easily enough. Or maybe the wizarding community was more accepting of mudbloods in Australia. She could move there as a political refugee and get a job at their Ministry.

As tempting as the idea was, she could never seriously entertain the idea of leaving now. Not when there was so much at stake. Now that the Muggles knew about wizards, it was only a matter of time before the Death Eaters forced them to fight. The Order of the Phoenix didn't stand a chance against them when they did. They were outnumbered, and even Dumbledore wouldn't have been able to survive a bullet to the heart. Once the muggles were done doing the Death Eaters' dirty work, they would all be killed or enslaved by those who pretended to be their saviors. She intended to do everything in her power to ensure it didn't come to that.

When she had satisfied her hunger and downed a bottle of butterbeer, Hermione removed her jacket. She folded it to create a makeshift pillow, and laid down on the counter. She savored the silence and the cool granite under her shoulders. There were plenty of unoccupied beds in the castle, but she feared that if she climbed into one, she would fold herself into the sheets and never resurface. The countertop would have to do.

She counted her heartbeats until she fell asleep.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶ ⚯͛ ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Draco sat on the floor in front of the Vanishing Cabinet, with his elbows draped over knees, picking at the blood and dirt underneath his fingernails. He had thrown every curse and hex he knew at the cabinet, but it was useless. He planned to destroy all the secret entrances to Hogwarts before putting charms around the perimeter of the grounds, so he would be alerted if anyone came near the castle. The plan was useless if he left a defenseless backdoor that led to the only safe room in the school.

Perhaps he would sit in front of the cabinet and wait until Bellatrix appeared.

No, he couldn't stay there much longer. The carbon monoxide would kill him. He stumbled to his feet and erupted into a fit of coughs. The fire was completely gone, but a thin veil of smoke still coated the walls. As he crossed the threshold and slammed the door behind him, he wondered if the Room of Requirement was gone for good. The castle's magic seemed to be deteriorating. He wouldn't be surprised if it changed locations or disappeared altogether.

Draco walked the length of the hallway and paused at the large open window overlooking the castle grounds. It was a miracle Hogwarts was still standing, considering all the stones and debris that were scattered about the courtyard and grass. The sight of the destruction caused so much shame. The guilt sank into the pits of his stomach. It penetrated every pore. But he stood still and kept himself from looking away. _This is why you must do it_ , he reminded himself. _You have to._

He was far enough removed from the damage that the air still felt fresh. It was quiet and warm up on the seventh floor. He imagined that the dust and the scent of death on the ground floor were suffocating. He would have to go down eventually. He owed it to the school, to Dumbledore, to repair any physical damage. But that didn't mean he had to do it right that moment. For now, he would allow his world to be quiet and warm.

A flicker of movement drew his attention to the Whomping Willow. He leaned over the banister as if that would give him a better view. Draco thought everyone had fled after Voldemort was killed and Potter had left. The Death Eaters retreated almost immediately to regroup and plan their next attack. The Order left soon after, with the illusion that they had won. They were in for a rude awakening.

At first, Draco thought the mass of dark hair belonged to Granger, but the malevolent cackle that drifted through the wind corrected him. Bellatrix. He sprang into motion. His walking sped into a jog. By the time he reached the staircase, he was so impatient, he apparated to the school's entrance. He had planned to wait a bit. He wanted to regain the trust of the Death Eaters after his father's betrayal. Then he would infiltrate their base, and execute Bellatrix publicly. This was better. Quick revenge, which would be met with quick retribution.

She was alone, crouching at the base of the Whomping Willow. Despite the humidity, she was still dressed in layers of dark, extravagant clothing. Her face was turned up, basking in the glow of the early sun. It accentuated her dark features: her hooded eyelids and sharp cheekbones. It sent a shiver up Draco's spine. He wasn't accustomed to seeing his aunt in the daylight. She stuck to the shadows, slinking through the darkness, like a rat. The fact that she felt comfortable showing herself during the day was unsettling.

"Draco!" she said, opening her arms when she saw him approaching. "Your mummy's been looking for you."

 _Do not be a coward, Draco_ , he thought as he yielded his wand. " _Avada K_ -"

" _Crucio_!" Bellatrix shrieked before Draco could finish the incantation. He dropped to his knees, clutching his head in his hands. He gritted his teeth and dug his fingers into his scalp to keep himself from crying out. Still, the pain was unimaginable. He'd seen the curse performed dozens of times. He had even cast it himself once, but he'd never been on the receiving end. It felt like his organs were turning themselves inside out. Like his brain was pounding hard enough to bash his skull.

Bellatrix knelt next to him, pushing a platinum lock of hair off of his forehead. He forced himself to keep his eyes open. If this was how he was going to go, he was going to look Death in the eyes while she killed him. He expected to see emptiness in her sharp, unforgiving gaze. Instead, he saw joy. She was thrilled to be taking the life of another Malfoy. Potter had been wrong to fear Voldemort above all else; Bellatrix was the real nightmare. "You've already lost one family member today. Would you really want to kill another one?"

"You're... not..." he coughed as he struggled to his feet, "my family."

" _Crucio_!"

Draco curled onto his side. This time, his throat felt like it was being crushed. He opened his mouth to scream, but he couldn't produce a sound. His vision was blurred by red and blue spots. He sat up and raised his wand. He turned his head and spat out his blood. His hand was twitching, but he forced his chin up.

"You _are_ your father's son," Bellatrix taunted. Despite her harsh words, her voice never lost its smooth, airy tone. "He pretended to be brave, too. He wanted to die on his feet, like a man." She aimed a swift kick at Draco's stomach, causing him to double over once more. "But neither of you have what it takes to survive in this world. When the going gets tough, both of you run away."

Just then, Yaxley and Dolohov crawled out of the tunnel underneath the Whomping Willow. _If I could kill one of them, it would be worth it_ , Draco thought as his eyes darted between the three of them.

" _Stupefy! Stupefy_!"

Draco's attention was drawn to his left side, where Hermione Granger stood, wand raised. Yaxley and Dolohov had fallen, effectively stunned. Bellatrix smirked and began to stalk towards the younger witch, who was frozen in fear. In her moment of distraction, Draco seized his opportunity. " _Avada_ -"

Bellatrix whirled around, reckless anger in her expression. "You'd try to kill me?"

" _Stupefy_ ," Granger said. Her voice was much softer, but the spell was successful. She stood over Bellatrix's body, with her eyebrows drawn together, and worry lines etched into her forehead. She scanned Bellatrix's body, then whispered, " _Obliviate_."

Draco watched as she walked to Dolohov and Yaxley and repeated the spell. He pushed himself to his feet, although he still felt unsteady from the effects of the torture curse. Hermione pocketed her wand. "You're welcome," she said.

Draco rolled his eyes and dragged a hand down his face. He looked at his fingers to find them stained with blood. "You should have killed them," he said as he wiped his hands on his shirt.

"No, I did the right thing. You should, too," she said.

He scoffed. "This is what is right for me." For the third time in just a few minutes, Draco's killing curse was interrupted. Two more Death Eater's clad in masks and black robes appeared from beneath the Whomping Willow. Without any hesitation, Hermione gripped Draco's wrist and apparated the two of them out of Hogwarts.


	3. Chapter 3

_"It is the quality of one's convictions that determines success, not the number of followers."_

—Remus Lupin

The moment they landed in the courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione let go of Draco's wrist. She resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her sleeve.

"Why did you do that?" Malfoy asked, holding his sleeve to his lips to staunch the bleeding.

"Do you ever say thank you?" Hermione asked. "I saved your life. They would have killed you."

He leaned against the inn's brick wall. Hermione sighed and lifted her wand to his face. He began to argue and shy away, but she ignored him, concentrating on the spell. " _Vulnera sanentur_." Malfoy coughed once more but immediately felt better. " _Tergeo_."

Draco touched his fingers to his mouth. They came back clean.

"You're welcome," Hermione huffed. She tapped her wand on the bricks and stepped into Diagon Alley.

"Why did you bring us here, of all places? I mean, you are a fugitive, no?" he asked as he rolled up his sleeves. Hermione caught a glimpse of his Dark Mark, which was obscured by what looked like a burn mark.

"I have to believe there are still more good people than bad," she said. Still, she pulled her hood over her head to cover her face. Whether her belief was true or not, all it took was one Death Eater, one misguided Muggle, and she'd be dead in an instant. "I'm going to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. If George is there, he might know where Harry and Ron went." As she spoke, she realized there was a chance she was spilling her plans to the enemy, but she remembered the way Bellatrix had tortured him, just as she'd tortured Hermione a few days prior. She still didn't like Malfoy, but she didn't think he'd sell her out to the Death Eaters.

Hermione's heart sank when she saw the street before her. She had just been there the day before, but her anxiety and adrenaline kept her from processing it. All the shop windows were boarded up. Debris was scattered across the cobblestones, thanks to the Ukrainian Ironbelly from Gringott's. The only people on the streets were shop owners cleaning up, and a pair of burly Death Eater's patrolling. Lining the brick walls were posters of Hermione and Harry, along with Seamus Finnigan, Professor McGonagall, and other half-bloods and Muggleborns. She ducked her head as she strode through the street and hoped she didn't look too suspicious.

"Are you mad?" Malfoy hissed at her side, warily eyeing the posters.

"You don't have to follow me," she bit back. He wasn't wrong, though. It was beyond stupid, but that was what made it brilliant. The Death Eaters would never think Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, would be so thick as to return to Diagon Alley in broad daylight. With any luck, the dirt on her face would render her unrecognizable. The Death Eaters would, however, without a doubt, recognize Draco Malfoy. As anxious as she was to get rid of it, she knew it wouldn't be the worst thing for the Death Eaters to think she was with him. Assuming, of course, that word had not yet spread about his desertion.

Hermione plucked a poster down as she ducked into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The lights of the shop were out and the windows were smashed, but the majority of the merchandise appeared to be intact. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Draco pick up a Skiving Snackbox. "Don't touch anything," she said. "And get away from the door."

He ignored her and walked around the display, examining an Edible Dark Mark. Hermione made her way to the back room. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. As she searched, her optimism drained. No sign of George.

When she returned, she smoothed out the poster. It was a moving portrait of Harry, with wide eyes, unruly hair, and a satisfied smirk. Beneath his name was a warning to the nonmagical citizens of London.

_Londoners: Be aware that this wizard is a known member of the Order of the Phoenix. This terrorist organization is dedicated to eradicating humankind. Stay vigilant. Report any sightings to the Ministry of Magic._

The Ministry's address and a Muggle phone number were listed at the bottom of the poster. She needed to find out how many Muggles had heard these lies, and how seriously the Muggle government was taking the so-called threat. In a few days, she would send her Patronus to the Burrow to ask Molly and Arthur if they knew where Ron and Harry were. First, she needed to find somewhere to spend the night. Preferably somewhere with running water. She couldn't stay at George's shop much longer, in case the Death Eaters decided to come inside.

"Not that I care at all," Draco said. Hermione had almost forgotten he was there. "But why did your friends leave you?"

"They didn't leave me. I knew the Death Eaters would want revenge on Harry after he killed Voldemort. The three of us were going to leave together, but then I remembered..." she hesitated. How much did Draco know about the Deathly Hallows? Slytherins seemed to have a proclivity for cheating death, whatever the cost. How far would Draco go if he knew she had one of the keys to mastering death? "Harry left something behind. I thought it might be important so I told them to get somewhere safe while I went back. I was worried someone would overhear our plans if we discussed them in the open, so I didn't let them tell me where they were going. I thought I would be smart enough to figure out where to meet them." She leaned against a wooden beam and took a shaky breath. "I've spent all year surrounded by fear and death and war, but I'm still here. Somehow, all that makes me forget that I'm mortal, you know? I'm fallible." Hermione's cheeks flushed. She bit her tongue. _Stick to the facts, Granger. He doesn't need a monologue_. "Anyway, it was a stupid and impulsive mistake on my part." She'd relived her conversation with Harry and Ron about a thousand times already. She could have cast _Muffliato_ and had their conversation without fear of being overheard. She could have told them to tell George. Or spoken in code. She was supposed to be the smart one. If she couldn't even think her decisions through, what did she have to offer to the war effort?

Draco scoffed. "It was brave."

She looked up, surprised at the compliment. "What?"

"That's all bravery is, right? Stupidity and impulsivity and self-righteousness disguised as altruism."

It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. Of course, he would take any opportunity to insult Gryffindor House and its values. "Right."

She dropped a box of chocolate cauldrons and a couple of Decoy Detonators into her purse, just in case. She'd pay George for them later.

"Not that I care," she said, repeating his words, "but what happened to your arm?" She nodded to the fresh burn over his Dark Mark.

He drew his sleeve back down. His gaze floated around the dim room as he carefully thought through his answer. When it landed on Hermione, she felt compelled to lift her chin. She immediately felt silly, like a defiant child, while he was looking at her with such detached confidence. "It's part of my penance."

"There's no such thing as penance. It's just an excuse to be complacent."

He shrugged. "Self-inflicted retribution, then."

Behind him, Hermione saw three new Death Eaters walking down the street. She folded up the poster of Harry and shoved it into her purse. "I need you to do something for me."

"What? No," Malfoy said and took a step back, towards the door.

She tripped over her own feet as she blocked his path. "Do you think I want to be asking for your help? I don't have many options right now. And you owe me." His grey eyes hardened. He was a head taller than her, but she wasn't backing down.

"I don't owe you shit," he said. "We don't all have that code of honor and chivalry that makes you Gryffindors feel so superior." He spat the words _honor_ and _chivalry_ the same way he said _Mudblood._

"You have a code of honor. It's fucked up and self-serving, but you have one. Otherwise, you would have killed me in the Room of Requirement." Malfoy shook his head but said nothing. "Consider it your _penance_ for six-and-a-half years of bullying that culminated in me getting tortured on your dining room floor."

He sighed and dragged a hand over his face, hiding a wince at the mention of her torture. "What's in it for me?"

Hermione's eyebrows knitted together. She repressed the compulsion to throw her arms in the air. "Are you kidding me?"

He looked over her shoulder at a crowd of Death Eaters gathering in the center of Diagon Alley. "No. Hurry up and make your bargain before they storm this place."

Hermione spun around on her heel. Her breath caught in her throat. There must have been seven or eight masked men and women right outside the door. She could only assume more were on their way. "If you do your job, we'll have food, and a place to sleep, and a shower."

Malfoy wrinkled his nose. "Good, you need one."

"I-"

He interrupted her by gripping her wrist. "Lead the way, Granger."

She focused on the street in Islington: the row of brick buildings surrounded a small square. The numbers on the houses jumping from 11 to 13, with no sign of number 12. She spun around, but the pair of them remained in the store. Hermione frowned. She'd been apparating effortlessly all year. Had she done something wrong? She reached for Malfoy's hand to try again, but he yanked his wand out of his pocket, prompting Hermione to do the same.

"They put up apparition wards."

"In the last ten minutes?"

He ignored her. "It's a checkpoint. No one can get in or out without their knowledge. They have to make sure we're not..." He looked at her.

"Mudbloods," she finished, trying to ignore the inevitable shame that accompanied the word. She pulled the door open and found herself face to face with a silver mask. " _Bombarda_ ," she said, pointing her wand at the group of them. She hoped it would cause enough of a distraction for her and Malfoy to get out of Diagon Alley.

One of the masked figures swung a fist at her jaw, causing her to stumble into the brick wall behind her. Her vision flashed and her mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood. Momentarily stunned by the use of physical force, as opposed to magic, Hermione lifted a hand to her jaw. She blinked as her eyes readjusted and her mind refocused. Malfoy, luckily, was not so easily startled. Right away, he stunned three Death Eaters, including the one who hit Hermione. Regaining her balance, Hermione took on a defensive position. She blocked the incursion of hexes aimed at herself and Malfoy.

Her shield charms proved helpful against the Cruciatus curse that was being thrown in their direction but did very little to defend against flailing limbs and weapons. She was forced to engage in hand-to-hand combat, which was not only exhausting and unfamiliar; it was distracting.

When Malfoy was hit across the face with brass knuckles and Hermione's shoulder was slashed with a knife, she realized they were fighting muggles. Their fighting skills were messy and hesitant, but effective enough.

Her breath shortened as the bodies closed in on her. The warm rush of blood coming from her cut shoulder demanded her attention. She couldn't give in to the pain; the Death Eaters were close enough that she could feel one's putrid breath on her face.

The enemy had them backed against a wall. She ducked to avoid a punch to the face, which forced her to drop her shield charm. In that split-second, she heard a thundering voice several feet away shout " _Flipendo_!"

A moment later, she heard a grunt from Malfoy as his head hit the wall.

" _Conjunctivitis_!" Hermione countered, aiming at the nearest Death Eater. She ducked again as she heard the incantation for another Knockback Jinx. The spell hit the window above her instead, causing a shower of broken glass to rain over her. Stifling a cry, she covered the back of her neck with her hands. Despite the painful pricks on the back of her hands, she seized the moment and muttered several Confundus charms, as well as a shield charm, before sprinting down the street. As she ran, she shot Stunning spells at the remaining Death Eaters over her shoulder.

" _Avada Kedavra_."

The sound of those cursed words was like nails on a chalkboard to Hermione. They made her want to vomit. She risked another glance over her shoulder and jumped when she saw Malfoy running behind her. " _Go!_ " he said.

She faltered when she saw the body of a boy, not much older than her, most likely a muggle, lying on the ground. His mask was gone. His eyes were still open and his arm was raised above his head like he was attempting to block the spell. Malfoy grabbed her shoulders and tugged her away from the scene. The pair sprinted through Knockturn Alley.

"Take your hair down," he said. "And ditch the hoodie."

It took Hermione a moment to process his order, but she complied, letting her hair fall around her shoulders. It was impractical; her curls whipped around her face and distorted her sight, but it made her less recognizable. She unzipped her hoodie and dropped it in the middle of the street.

Hermione could hear at least one pair of feet pounding on the cobblestone behind them and quickened her pace. When they made it to the entrance of Knockturn Alley, she hitched a sharp left onto Charing Cross Road and took shelter in the doorway of a bakery.

"What are you doing? We have to move," Malfoy said, looking back at the alleyway.

"Let me catch my breath," she panted. She closed her eyes. The image of the boy was burned into her mind. She thought back to Hogwarts, and wished, not for the first time, that she had been laid to rest with Fred and Colin and Tonks and Lupin. There were probably countless others that needed to be mourned. She didn't even know the Muggle Death Eater's name, but he deserved to be mourned. He was innocent. He thought he was doing the right thing.

It wasn't her fault. Hermione knew it wasn't her fault, but she couldn't help but wonder how things might have been different if she had been smart enough to see this coming.

"Granger, let's go," Malfoy said impatiently.

She dragged her gaze back to him. A glint of silver flashed in his hand. "Why do you have that?" she demanded, snatching the mask out of his hand. "Did you kill that boy for _this_?"

"I sent a message," he said and yanked the mask back. "And this might be useful. Let's go." He stepped back onto the pavement and slipped into the crowd.

Hermione gritted her teeth and caught up with him. "Muggles are disposable to them," she said under her breath. "They won't care that you've killed one." It was Sunday, early afternoon, so the London street was flooded with pedestrians. Most were too preoccupied with their own thoughts or conversations to pay any mind to the two teenagers. Still, Hermione and Draco were covered with blood and dirt. It was best to keep her voice down, so she might not bring any more unwanted attention their way.

"The Death Eaters are using them as a human shield because they don't think the Order of the Phoenix is going to hurt them."

"Right, because they're innocent. We can't ju-"

"When you are in the middle of a war, everyone is innocent, or nobody is innocent. It does not matter, either way. " Hermione opened her mouth to disagree, but he stopped her. "This is my code of honor. Doing what needs to be done."

She glared at him, then at the mask in his hand.

"Hey, _you_ asked _me_ for help," he said.

She sighed and looked once more over her shoulder, out of paranoia. They must have been far enough away from Diagon Alley to apparate to Grimmauld Place. She steered them into an alley. "Fine." She shivered as she thought of Malfoy casting the Killing Curse. Malfoy standing over the body of the teenage boy. How, if things had gone differently, Malfoy could have been standing over Harry or Ron's body instead. "Please, do me a favor, and don't kill anyone else in front of me."

"No promises," he said as she wrapped her fingers around his wrist and turned on the spot, disappearing into thin air.


	4. Chapter 4

_"Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open."_

— Albus Dumbledore

As soon as Hermione felt her feet touch the ground, she let go of Malfoy and sprang away from him. She braced her hands on her knees and squeezed her eyes shut as she waited for the world to stop spinning around her. Her brief nap on the kitchen counter in Hogwarts was not enough to replenish her energy. _No more magic until you get a proper nights' rest_ , she promised herself.

Malfoy stood a few feet away, a hand raised to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun. He was already looking at the row of townhouses, exactly where number 12 should have been. The corners of his lips were tucked into a frown. Hermione remembered that Narcissa Malfoy and Sirius were cousins. Draco had probably visited; maybe even spent Christmases here, before Sirius' mum died.

She decided not to ask and cleared her throat to get his attention. He looked over his shoulder and his frown deepened. She stepped onto the pavement, sweat pooling in the small of her back. The sun was unusually punishing for early May in London. Still, it was better than rain, she supposed. As she moved forward, number 12 Grimmauld Place came into view.

"I gave away the location of the house to Yaxley, last autumn," she explained, although she suspected he already knew. "I think I made him, Dolohov, and Bellatrix forget when I _Obliviated_ them this morning."

"You _think_ you made them forget?"

Hermione recoiled and set her jaw, but continued. "In theory, if no one is inside the house now, we can go in and cast another Fidelius Charm. If I'm the secret keeper, no one should be able to see the house, even if they know exactly where it is."

"Brilliant," Malfoy said, his voice flat. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye without moving his head. "Why do you need me?"

"You're a Death Eater."

"I am not a-"

"I can't just waltz right through the front door, in case one of them has returned. They'd kill me on the spot. But you can."

He turned to face her, head-on, but she continued to stare straight ahead. He forced out a sigh and stepped into the road without looking, causing several cars to beep at him. He stopped in the middle of the street in surprise. One Muggle man shouted expletives out his window as he maneuvered around Malfoy. Hermione suppressed a giggle when he made it to the other side of the road and threw his hands in the air in frustration.

He pulled the silver mask over his face. Hermione's smile vanished. A shiver crept up her spine. Fear filled the spaces between her vertebrae. _That's not him_ , she tried to tell herself. But wasn't it? She had known Draco Malfoy since they were eleven years old, but she hadn't really known him.

She stepped back into the shade and out of the sun and tied her hair back. Wringing her hands around her wrists, she paced the length of the pavement in front of the row of townhouses. Despite the heat, she wished she had her hoodie. Or at least a long-sleeved shirt. Every time she looked at her wrists, her attention caught on the angry red marks that would forever be carved into her skin. A constant reminder of the arbitrary shame that came with being what she was. She and Fleur had already tried every healing spell they knew back at Shell Cottage. While they'd been able to ease the pain and stop the bleeding, the scar was permanent.

Hermione thought about Malfoy's Dark Mark. He'd attempted to cover it with a burn. Was she that desperate that she would turn to self-mutilation? She peeked at the scar. _Mudblood_. It was a foul sentiment, but it was just a word. Her fingers twitched. She absentmindedly dug her nails into the soft flesh on the inside of her forearm as she faced the house. How long had Malfoy been in there? Had he been caught? Would he give her away?

She moved to sit on a nearby bench, but then saw the bright red telephone booth next to it. She hesitated, before fishing the poster of Harry out of her purse. Folding it to hide the moving image, Hermione stepped into the booth. She rolled her eyes at the photos of nude models plastered along the walls, punched in the phone number, and held the receiver up to her ear.

While it rang, Hermione shifted her weight from foot to foot, cringing at the stickiness of the floor. Finally, a perky young woman answered the phone. "Honeydukes Kings Cross, how can I help you?"

Hermione looked down at the phone number once again, certain she had made a mistake. When had Honeydukes opened a location at Kings Cross?

"Hello? Anyone there?" the voice on the other end of the line asked.

"Er- hi, sorry," Hermione said after a moment. "I found this number on a poster in Diagon Alley, and-"

"Oh, yes! Do you have information about the Order of the Phoenix?" Her voice lowered an octave. "Let me get my boss for you."

"No, don't do that," Hermione said quickly. "I must have the wrong number. I'm sorry."

"But you just said-"

"Have a good day. Goodbye!" she said and slammed the phone before shoving her way out of the booth.

She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the daylight again. A flicker of movement from behind the curtains at number 12 caused her to straighten up. She jogged across the street as Kreacher appeared in the window. Then Malfoy emerged from the front door. "All clear," he said.

"Thanks," she muttered as she pushed past him. Ignoring Kreacher's grumblings about how upset Mrs. Black would be if she knew a _Mudblood_ was in her home, Hermione set to work on the protective enchantments. Malfoy, on the other hand, wasted no time in ordering Kreacher to get him food and water. Kreacher was more than happy to serve a pureblood that had descended from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

The furniture was dusty but had moved since Hermione had last been there. Most of the drawers in the sitting room had been turned inside out, indicating that Death Eaters had been through the house. Hermione hoped that meant they'd deemed it useless and wouldn't be back any time soon.

She was pleased to find some of her belongings that she hadn't been able to grab all those months ago. She was less pleased to find that her clothes had been sorted and searched by Death Eaters.

" _Scourgify_ ," she said, waving her wand over a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. With one more look over her shoulder at Malfoy, she made her way to the bathroom to shower. She winced when she saw her reflection in the mirror. The shadows under her eyes seemed to cover half her face. The hollows of her cheeks were deeper than she remembered, as was the divet between her shoulder and collarbone. Even tied back, her hair looked greasy and stringy. When was the last time she'd seen herself? Weeks ago. Months, even.

When the water was scalding hot, she stepped under the downpour. And she let the dirt and the blood be rinsed away. The remnants of war and the ghosts that now seemed to cling to her like a second skin finally washed down the drain. The hot water mixed with her tears. She stood in the shower until her skin was red and raw. It burned, but it reminded her that she was alive.

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Hermione woke up the next morning, after sixteen hours of sleep, feeling refreshed and motivated. She had taken the couch in the sitting room; it felt odd to sleep in one of the Black brother's bedrooms, even if it did belong to Harry.

She wondered if Malfoy knew that.

Daylight filtered through the curtains, casting a pleasant glow across the room. Hermione still lit a fire with a flick of her wand. Satisfied with how easily magic came to her after a good night's rest, she lit each sconce lining the wall. She then drew the curtains. She was fairly confident that no one would be able to look in from the street, but one could never be too careful.

A resounding crash came from the kitchen. Hermione descended the stairs and found Kreacher sitting on the kitchen floor with a pot over his face. Under the rim, she could see the false locket that Harry had given him, which she took as a sign of his continued loyalty to Harry. Hopefully, that loyalty extended to her. "Good morning, Kreacher," she said.

Kreacher lifted the pot over his eye. A flash of recognition crossed his features. He scowled at her and pulled the pot back down. Hermione forced her shoulders down and crossed the kitchen to boil water for tea. After a moment, she spoke again. "Kreacher, has anyone been here in the last day or so?"

The pot muffled his response, but Hermione made out the words "blood-traitor".

Her spine lengthened. "What was that? Kreacher, will you please take the pot off of your head?"

He ignored her, picking up a spoon from the floor and banging it on the pot.

"Take it off, Kreacher," said an even voice behind Hermione. She twisted her neck to find Malfoy leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest. His hair was damp and he was wearing a clean flannel that hung loosely around his frame. He must have found it in Sirius' or Regulus' room.

Kreacher obeyed, pressing his oversized nose against the floor. "Master Malfoy," he said, his voice full of reverence for the pureblood wizard. Hermione's breath caught in her throat.

"Who was here?"

She opened her mouth to object to Malfoy's interrogation.

"The red-head blood-traitor, Master Malfoy," Kreacher repeated with a sneer. "Mistress Black would be so angry to see blood-traitors and Mudbloods in her house."

"Why did they come?" His face was a mask of perfect indifference. Hermione kept her gaze on the floor.

Kreacher sent a resentful glare at Hermione. "Left a note." He pointed to a drawer across from Hermione.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows at her, as if to say, "You're welcome," before taking his leave and disappearing from the threshold. A fit of warm anger spread across her gut. It was irrational. He had helped her, but she despised the way he'd used his status to manipulate Kreacher. Part of her knew that the house-elf would never give information to the _Mudblood_ , no matter how kind she was to him. And ultimately, the power play was harmless. Especially compared to the atrocity Malfoy had committed the previous day.

She opened the drawer and pulled out a small piece of parchment. A Weasley had left it, she deduced, but which one? If not for her annoyance, she might have called Malfoy back in to ask Kreacher, but it probably would not have mattered. As it were, she doubted Kreacher would have bothered to learn to differentiate the Weasley's anyway. Besides, with any luck, it wouldn't matter. The note would have Harry and Ron's location, and Hermione would be on her way, free of both Kreacher and Malfoy.

_H-_

_Thestral_

_Are you fucking kidding me?_ she thought. The note gave her far too many more questions and exactly zero answers. She assumed the H was for Hermione, but the possibilities made her mind race. Maybe Ron and Harry were separated and the note was meant for Harry or someone else entirely. And Thestral? Was that a code she was meant to understand? Or should she look for a wild Thestral in central London?

She dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. She would give herself a week to find her friends, and then she would go to the Burrow. The thought of going there made her uneasy. The Ministry would be watching the Weasley's. For a moment, she considered asking Malfoy to go, but immediately put the thought out of her mind. Hermione had _Obvliated_ Malfoy's betrayal from Bellatrix, Dolohov, and Yaxley's minds, but the Death Eaters in Diagon Alley had seen him. They watched him kill one of their own.

Regardless, she wanted to avoid asking Malfoy for any more favors if she could help it.

She was on her own, for now. Self-preservation was paramount. When she was with Harry and Ron, her level-headedness balanced out their impulsivity. Ron kept them grounded. He made sure Harry and Hermione didn't burn themselves down in their efforts to save everybody else. And Harry.

Hermione was lost without him. As much grief as she gave him, he always steered them in the right direction. He always managed to get them out alive. Harry would have known what to do next. Without him, her internal compass was broken.

She looked at the doorway, where Malfoy stood a few moments ago. If Harry were there, the first thing he would have done is get rid of the former Death Eater. She stared at her hands in her lap, at her chapped skin and chipped nails.

But Harry wasn't there anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

_"Words are, in my not so humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic, capable of both influencing injury, and remedying it."_

—Albus Dumbledore

Over the next few days, Hermione and Malfoy fell into an easy routine. She no longer felt like she was walking on eggshells around him. In fact, the two of them were rarely in the same room together. Hermione tended to wake up early, while Malfoy slept until lunchtime. 

It wasn't by choice that she rose before the sun. She had a hard time falling asleep before the early hours of the morning, so she usually only slept for three or four hours a night before her nightmares woke her up. It was rarely the same dream. Sometimes, it was Bellatrix, sometimes, Voldemort. Sometimes it was Harry and Ron, turning on her. Those were horrible, but she could handle them.

The worst dreams were the quietest ones. The ones where she was walking through Hogwarts, alone, until she stumbled upon the body of another third-year student who hadn't left when Professor McGonagall told them to. The ones where she was reliving the moments after Harry had died, when she couldn't hear anything over the sound of her own heartbeat. When she thought they'd truly lost. 

If Malfoy heard her screaming in her sleep, he didn't say anything.

She spent her days meticulously searching every corner of the house for more clues. The word "Thestral" was hardly enough to go off of. She didn't expect to find anything; it was mostly to keep her busy until she felt it would be safe to reach out to Molly and Arthur. 

More often than not, Malfoy disappeared during the day and didn't return to Grimmauld Place until after Hermione was asleep. Occasionally, they ran into each other in the kitchen or as Malfoy was heading out the door. At first, she pretended she didn't notice his presence. She even went as far as actively avoiding him, leaving the kitchen as soon as he walked in, even if she wasn't finished eating. By Tuesday, though, the prolonged silences were comfortable. She was able to make eye contact without squirming under the scrutiny of his cold, grey gaze. 

She was, however, still keeping her distance from Kreacher. Although Harry had ordered Kreacher to not call Hermione a Mudblood, it didn't stop the house-elf from talking _about_ Mudbloods under his breath while in her proximity. Over the years at Hogwarts, she had become desensitized to the term. Malfoy and his Slytherin friends had called her that so many times, it stopped bothering her. 

Enter Bellatrix. For six and a half years, it was just a word. Until Bellatrix turned it into a weapon. It was easy to let words slide right off. It was different when the word was literally ingrained in one's skin. To some people, a Mudblood was all she would ever be. 

She was sharing a roof with one of those people. 

By Thursday, Hermione had been through every room in the house and found nothing else of consequence. 

Friday, she woke up from another nightmare to a gentle pounding of rain on the window. She stayed curled up on the couch for almost an hour after she woke up, staring up at the ceiling. It was the first time in days that she'd heard something other than the sound of Kreacher's nasty words, or the floorboards creaking above her head. Finally, there was something to drown out the silence. 

At the first crash of thunder, Hermione pulled herself out of bed. In spite of the gloomy weather, this was the happiest she'd felt in a while. No, happy wasn't quite the right word. This was the _least depressed_ she'd felt in a while. She was going to leave Grimmauld Place for the first time all week. 

As soon as she finished pulling on a fresh pair of jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, Malfoy strode through the sitting room, taking a bite of a green apple as he passed her. 

After making sure her purse was packed with all the essentials, he followed him out the door. He stopped on the front step. "Where are you going?" 

"None of your business." Hermione didn't stop. "I don't ask you where you go every day." The street was empty, so she broke through the protective enchantments, confident that no Death Eaters were waiting for her. 

Malfoy scoffed as he caught up to her. "Well, I am not as naive as you are. Where are you going?" Neither of them had umbrellas, but Hermione didn't mind. The cool wash of rain was preferable over the insufferable heat that plagued London earlier in the week. "Come on. What if you get captured and tortured into giving me up?"

"Don't underestimate me."

"Granger," he said, stepping in front of her when she ignored him again. He looked up at the sky and then stepped underneath a portico to keep out of the rain. Hermione reluctantly followed suit. 

"Look," she said before he could say anything else. "With any luck, I'll be out of your hair in a couple of days. You can stay here for as long as you want. Or, until Harry kicks you out," she remedied. It wasn't her place to offer Harry's home away. "Let's stay out of each other's hair until then."

"I will be in Knockturn Alley," he said. 

"What?"

"I will be in Knockturn Alley," he repeated slowly, enunciating each syllable. "Probably until five PM. If I am not back by six, don't expect to see me again."

Hermione searched his face for any sign of dishonesty or ulterior motive. "King's Cross. I'll be back before you." She stepped back into the rain and continued walking. 

By the time she was halfway to the train station, her shirt was soaked through. Her hair hung in mousy strings around her face. She didn't mind at all. 

The air smelled fresher, like spring. It smelled of hope, and new beginnings, and nostalgia.

When she was little, her parents would take her out of school to go to a museum and a matinee on her birthday. When she turned five years old, her parents got her a pair of bright red rain boots. To break them in, she would run ahead of her parents and jump into every puddle she saw with two feet, splashing anyone within a five-foot radius. It infuriated tourists, but Hermione's parents thought it was adorable. 

The next year, her parents got her a matching red raincoat. It rained again that year, so Hermione tugged on her favorite pair of rain boots and splashed around in the puddles on her sixth birthday. 

And on her seventh birthday. And her eighth. 

By her ninth birthday, Hermione was twice as tall as she had been four years prior, but the boots and jacket still fit her like they were brand new. _Her magic boots_ , she called them, completely unaware that the magic was within her the entire time. 

_Ironic_ , she thought, _how quickly magic loses its charm._ The whimsical nature of it was so appealing when she read about it in children's books. Now, it felt like a burden more often than a blessing. 

The gothic spires of St. Pancras rose out of the fog. Hermione's chest felt a little lighter at the familiar sight. The crowd was thinner than a typical Friday morning. Even so, she found herself sandwiched between two businessmen as she entered King's Cross. When she arrived inside the main lobby, a severe-looking woman in a pantsuit shook out her umbrella, pelting Hermione with tiny droplets. 

It didn't make much of a difference; Hermione was already drenched from the long walk. She searched for a bathroom to dry off, then paused. The Statute of Secrecy was already broken. She pulled out her wand and cast a Hot-Air charm over herself. Some people stared. Others glanced in her direction and then continued on their way. No one cried out in confusion or accused her of being the Devil. 

She wondered how their reactions would have differed had her left arm been exposed, proclaiming her blood status to the world. No matter. When her jeans were no longer soggy and her hair had dried, she continued through the terminal, searching for the blue and pink logo of Honeydukes. It was nestled between a chocolate shop and a tourist trap. The windows were filled with her favorite sweets: Chocolate Frogs, White Chocolate Honeycombs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Inside, there was a bar serving Muggle pastries and coffee. 

She wished she had Polyjuice Potion prepared so she could sit inside without arousing suspicion. Being in King's Cross during rush hour was one thing. Sitting in what seemed to be one of the Death Eater's headquarters was too risky. She dipped into a nearby bathroom and shut herself into a stall. 

Scratching her head with her hand, she paced, as much as one could in the confined space. She held her wand up to her face and focused on the transfiguration of her features. She pictured her nose shrinking, her forehead widening, and her cheekbones becoming more defined. She would have preferred to do this in front of a mirror, but she didn't want any unsuspecting commuters to catch her in the act of changing her appearance. Luckily, she had done a pretty decent job. The spells wouldn't last long, but she felt more confident about entering the sweet shop. 

She strode in, with her head held high. After ordering a cappuccino, she picked up a spare copy of the Daily Prophet and buried her nose in the newspaper. 

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Draco sat in the back corner of the Leaky Cauldron. He'd been pretending to read the Daily Prophet for nearly an hour and a half. 

Every day for the past three days, he had cast a Disillusionment Charm over himself and stood in Borgin and Burkes, hoping to overhear any information about Bellatrix's whereabouts. The shop was desolate for most of the time he was there. Draco almost pitied Mr. Borgin. At this rate, the shop would be out of business by the end of the summer. 

Draco was almost about to give up. He considered returning to Malfoy Manor to see if his mother knew anything, but he didn't have much faith in her. Narcissa watched Bellatrix kill her husband in front of her, and she lied to Voldemort about Potter's death. She might have disagreed with the Death Eaters, but her priority was Draco. She wouldn't tell him any information that might put him in harm's way. 

Then, yesterday, just as he was about to leave Knockturn Alley for good, he saw Thorfinn Rowle lurking outside the shop. Still concealed by his Disillusionment Charm, Draco watched Rowle drop a piece of parchment through the postage slot. Mr. Borgin read the parchment, and, stupidly, left it on the counter for anyone to read. 

_Leaky Cauldron, tomorrow, noon_

It was well past noon, but Draco had yet to see anyone he recognized as a Death Eater. He looked up every time the door opened. It occurred to him that they were using Polyjuice, or using Muggles to pass messages. Either of those possibilities would make it nearly impossible for Draco to know who to look for. 

After almost two hours of waiting, the bartender was beginning to stare at Draco, spelled by impatience. Draco took the hint: order something or get out. It was far too early for Firewhisky, and he wasn't one for Butterbeer; it was too sweet. He exited through the back, pulling his hood over his hair, and strolled into Diagon Alley. The crowd grew each day he had been there that week. Now, it was as crowded as it was each August when he and his schoolmates came to get supplies for the upcoming year. It was almost like everything was back to normal. 

Judging by the glazed eyes and expressions filled with adoration, most of the people were Muggles. He noticed a young witch at the front of a small group, herding the Muggles like cattle, as she explained the rules of Quidditch. 

He found the sight reprehensible, not to mention counterintuitive. If Voldemort had been alive, he never would have stood for filthy Muggles standing on magical soil. All for the cause, he supposed. Earn the Muggles' trust, use them to kill all the Mudbloods, then pull the rug out from underneath them. If he were honest, he didn't know where he stood. He despised the fact that Muggles were being allowed to see Diagon Alley, to learn the rules of Quidditch, and drink in their pubs. Being a wizard was a privilege. Why were the Death Eaters allowing their inferiors to take part in that? 

Draco looked at the posters lining the windows of shops. McGonagall, Potter, even Granger. 

She was harmless, he had decided. The Death Eaters were overestimating her. All bite, no bark. Skilled at spells, maybe, but she wasn't willing to do what was necessary to survive. It was the Gryffindor in her; if she'd been sorted in Slytherin or even Ravenclaw, she might've been able to do some real damage in the battle. 

The hypocrisy of the purebloods was astonishing, he realized, as he passed another portrait, this one of Hagrid. Snape was a half-blood, were they planning on killing him? Tom Riddle himself was half-blood. Sure, purebloods were superior, without a doubt, but that didn't mean everyone else had to _die_. 

The thought of Snape reminded Draco that he needed ingredients for Polyjuice Potion. He turned into the apothecary, starting to feel uneasy in the crowd. His face wasn't plastered on the walls just yet, but it was only a matter of time.

The apothecary was packed, making it easy for Draco to slip ingredients up his sleeves and into his pockets without the owner realizing. Most shopowners placed anti-theft charms on their merchandise, but Draco had found out in this third year at Hogwarts that the old man who worked the apothecary was far more trusting than anyone else in the Alley. Over the years, he'd perfected the craft of petty theft. Make a big show of examining one ingredient while the other hand slipped another ingredient. Anyone watching would have seen Draco replace the ingredient on the shelf and be none the wiser. And he bought something. That way, no one became suspicious if they saw Draco in the same shop multiple times without ever purchasing anything. 

After collecting the necessary ingredients for his favorite potions, Draco set a jar of bezoars on the counter and handed over a galleon. 

"Three galleons," the shopkeeper told him gruffly. 

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I have been coming here since I was eleven. It has always been one galleon." 

The man shrugged. "Supply and demand." 

Draco slammed two more galleons on the counter and snatched the jar. _Three galleons_. He could have raised his own goats and harvested the bezoars for less than that. It didn't matter; his family had no shortage of gold in Gringott's, but it was the principle of it all. Muggles treading on sacred ground, driving up prices. Putting on masks and playing superhero. They had to be stopped. 

First, Bellatrix had to be killed. No, Draco had to kill Bellatrix. When their leader was dead, the Muggles would retreat in fear, like they always did. Draco would make sure of it. 

He shoved through the front door, stepping back into Diagon Alley. The crowd of Muggles had moved on from Quality Quidditch Supplies to Weasley's Wizards Wheezes. Draco clenched his fists as a Muggle child threw a Fanged Frisbee in his direction. 

_That damn shop should have gone out of business._

Resisting the overwhelming urge to hex the Muggle kid, Draco turned to exit Diagon Alley via the Leaky Cauldron but stopped before he reached the backdoor to the inn. If the juvenile joke shop was back in business, that meant George Weasley was most likely there. He might know where Potter and Ronald Weasley were, or at least who left the note for Granger. 

The notion of inconveniencing himself to help the Gryffindors was exhausting, at best, but, while he didn't necessarily want the same things as the Order of the Phoenix, their goals were aligned. 

Plus, the sooner Granger reunited with them, the sooner he would be rid of her. 

He turned around and marched down the cobblestone, nearly knocking three Muggles over. Inside the store, he saw an older witch at the counter. He didn't recognize her. Before he could enter to ask her, he heard his name called from behind him. 

Instinctively, he spun around to face the caller, realizing his mistake as soon as he saw the Death Eater pull out his wand. Draco reached for his own wand, turning on his heel to apparate back to Grimmauld Place. He was too late. The Death Eater had grabbed Draco's shoulder before he vanished. 


	6. Chapter 6

  
  
_"Your devotion is nothing more than cowardice. You would not be here if you had anywhere else to go."_

\- Voldemort

"I don't understand," said a girl in an obnoxious pink jumper. "Why do half-breeds and Mud-borns hate us? They're more like us than the purebloods are."

Hermione leaned back in her chair, trying to listen in on the conversation happening behind her. Finally, some Muggles that were capable of critical thinking. If these two teenage girls were able to figure it out, the rest of the world couldn't be too far behind.

"It's _half-bloods_ and _Mudbloods_ ," the other girl corrected. "I think they're trying to equalize everything. If they dilute the bloodlines, there would be no separation or discrimination."

The first girl took a sip of her coffee. "My mum says there's something off about the purebloods."

"Trust me, my dad works for the Prime Minister. He's seen the way the Order of the Phoenix is attacking humans." She paused for a moment and lowered her voice. Hermione imagined her leaning closer to her friend. "They killed a kid the other day. He was our age. Right in Diagon Alley." She pronounced it "diagonally."

Hermione pulled her fingers through her hair. _You don't have any idea what you're talking about_ , she wanted to yell. But she couldn't draw any attention to herself. This mission was strictly for reconnaissance. A flash of white-blonde hair caused her eyes to widen as she met Malfoy's eyes. Downing the last drops of her coffee, she folded up the newspaper and set it back on the table. Across the terminal, he was pacing back and forth, wringing his hands. Hermione paused to fake a cough. While her head was ducked in her elbow, she transfigured her features back to her own.

"What are yo-"

"We have to go."

She let him lead her through the terminal and back into the pouring rain. "Malfoy, what's wrong?"

"I fucked up," he said, his voice taut and his eyes full of panic. " _Fuck_." He tugged on the ends of his hair.

Hermione's heart rate sped up as she thought of the possibilities. Did he kill someone else? Was Bellatrix near? Did he see Harry or Ron? "Malfoy!"

Malfoy's eyes darted around the street, scanning faces before he said, "They're at Grimmauld Place. One of them grabbed me before I apparated."

And just like that, Hermione's heart stopped. She stretched her fingers before digging her nails into the palms of her hands. Biting her lip, she let out a low hum that grew into an animalistic growl. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to reign in her anger. _You can't be angry; you did the same thing._ A shaky breath escaped her lips as she opened her eyes. "Okay."

Malfoy knitted his eyebrows together. "Okay?"

With an exasperated sigh, Hermione shrugged. "There's nothing we can do about it now."

He nodded and the two of them stood in the pouring rain in silence. Thirty seconds after it became uncomfortable, Malfoy said, "So we should split up, right?" Hermione tilted her head in question. "Statistically, we would have better odds of survival."

She forced out a laugh. "Right." The pair were silent again. _Say "good luck" and leave_ , she thought. _You're better off alone_. Instead, she said, "But we're kind of on the same team, now."

The ghost of a smirk flitted across Malfoy's lips, but his eyes remained dark and unforgiving. "Being on the same _side_ does not put us on the same _team._ "

"I refuse to beg you to come with me," she said with an eye roll. "But if you want to earn your _penance_ through something productive rather than maiming yourself, I will allow you to help me save the world." Her tone was meant to come across as teasing and sarcastic, but as she spoke the words into existence, she regretted the confidence with which she spoke. If she were capable of saving the world, she would have finished it the night of the Battle of Hogwarts. Hell, she would have killed Bellatrix herself.

"Fine." Malfoy's voice gave away none of his thoughts. He did not sound content with the prospect of spending more time with Hermione, but his words weren't colored with reluctance either.

"Fine," Hermione repeated. She hadn't expected him to agree. "We need to get out of London and away from civilization. There's no way of knowing which cities are on the lookout for us." The word "us" tasted foreign on her tongue. A week ago, she never thought she would refer to herself and Malfoy as a unit.

"Away from _civilization?_ What are we going to do? Camp in the woods until Potter finds us."

"It sounds ridiculous when you say it like that," she muttered and gripped the sleeve of his jacket.

This time, Hermione landed steadily on her feet in their new location. Malfoy was not as lucky. "Give me a little warning next time, Granger," he said, panting. They had landed on a mountain, and Malfoy took a few steps to balance over the rocky terrain. "Where are we?"

"Wales. Snowdonia." Unlike London, it wasn't raining on the west coast of Britain. It was cloudy, but the sky was lit by brilliant streaks of orange and purple as the sun set behind another mountain across the valley. Hermione felt overwhelmingly small in the shadow of the sun in the mountains. In a way, the smallness was freedom. It easy to feel like the weight of the world was on her shoulders when the battle was contained to Hogwarts, her home. This was bigger than her now. And her role was crucial, but even the fact that Malfoy, a Death Eater, stood beside her reminded her that she wasn't holding the sky up on her own.

A soft breeze blew through Hermione's hair, whipping the curls around her face in a frenzy. A ripple cut across the thick grass that lined the slopes of the mountains. She closed her eyes and inhaled the clean mountain air. When the Death Eaters were all in Azkaban, she was going to live in the mountains for a while. Harry and Ron and Ginny could join if they wanted, but she wasn't interested in staying in a crowded city anymore. At least, not until she healed.

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When Draco woke up the next morning, Granger was not in the tent.

He couldn't bring himself to be concerned about her well-being, but he was annoyed. After all, it was her idea that they stick together. And didn't she learn anything from the day before? If he hadn't known she was at King's Cross, she would have walked right into the arms of the Death Eaters at Grimmauld Place.

That thought satisfied him. He had saved her life. The Gryffindor would feel the need to repay him.

Although, he supposed maybe he owed her that much. If not for her, he would not have had a place to live in London, and as much as he despised camping, even he had to admit he was impressed by the tent she kept in her purse. He only wished she'd kept an extra set of clothes for him in there so he didn't have to _Scroufigy_ his jeans and button-up every day for the foreseeable future.

While he waited, he organized his potion bottles. Luckily, Granger was annoyingly thorough in her packing, and Draco was able to find a cauldron without much effort. He decided to start with Polyjuice Potion. He didn't know if or when he would need it, but since it took a month to brew, he figured he had better start as soon as possible. The sun rose higher each time he stirred the potions. He lost himself in the rhythm. Draco had brewed these potions so many times, he could have done it in his sleep. It was mind-numbing, and he was grateful.

His mind was not his favorite place to be. Any distraction was welcome.

By the time the sun dipped behind the mountain again, he had completed a Sleeping Draught, Draught of Living Death, and Confusing Concoction. And Granger had not yet returned. To pass more time, he looked around the tent. He wasn't searching for anything in particular. He would have liked to have found a bottle of Firewhisky, but wasn't surprised that the most interesting thing he found was a stack of old Hogwarts textbooks.

A deafening crack sounded from outside, signaling Granger's return. Draco hastened to return the books to where he found them. He didn't want to give her any reason to accuse him of snooping.

Not that she paid any mind as she entered the tent. Her hair was pulled back into a plait, with strands swept across her forehead. Her fingers tapped against her thighs at breakneck speed. She was muttering to herself, and as she sat down on the bed on the opposite side of the tent, Draco realized she was reciting the directions for brewing Polyjuice Potion.

 _Where were you?_ he wanted to ask. _Why are you talking to yourself like you are clinically insane?_ Deciding that neither of those questions would prove productive, he stood awkwardly by the flap in the tent.

Granger, as if sensing his eyes on her, stilled her twitching fingers and looked up at him. He noticed her throat bob as she swallowed. If they were friends, he would have asked her what was wrong. If they were enemies, propriety dictated that he should look away and leave her to have whatever anxiety attack she was having.

As he didn't know exactly where they stood, he remained still, unable to take his gaze off of her.

"Sorry," she said, but her tone was anything but apologetic.

He took this as permission to ask, "Where did you go?"

"The Burrow." At his quizzical look, she clarified, "The Weasley's. And then to Godric's Hollow. I figured Harry and Ron might've stopped there, or someone might have left another note for me."

Draco nodded slowly. A fit of emotion blossomed in his stomach, but he couldn't quite name it. "And?"

"No such luck." An eternity of silence passed. And another. And then she said, "The Death Eaters were there. At Godric's Hollow and The Burrow. The houses have been destroyed."

Bitterness, he would call it. "Why didn't you tell me you were going?"

Granger's eyebrows shot up to her hairline and she pursed her lips in disbelief. "You made it clear you weren't interested in being on my team," she said.

"I do not like it, but we both want the same thing, and you just left me stranded in the woods to go chase after-" he stopped as he saw her eyes widen. "Potter and Weasley." He forced out a laugh. "All the bullshit you spat about being on the same team. You don't give a damn. You don't trust me. You want to keep me right under your nose so I can't do anything to hurt them." When she didn't say anything, he knew he was correct. "Why would you trust me? I'm a Death Eater, right?."

"What else am I supposed to think?" She clutched her arms close to her chest. "I watched you _kill_ an innocent boy last week."

"To save your dirty fucking _Mudblood_ neck," he snarled.

Granger stood. She raised her chin a fraction of a degree and wiped her face of any rage or shame she might have been feeling. "You're a coward, Draco Malfoy."

Before he knew it, he had his wand at her chest. He leaned forward, trying to intimidate her. His efforts were unsuccessful. She had gotten a reaction out of him; that was all she wanted. "I am not a coward," he said through clenched teeth. "I am a survivor."

With the back of her hand, she shoved his wand away from her and sat back down on the bed. Tugging the plait out of her hair and tucking her knees into her chest, she said, "I don't think you're a Death Eater."

His arm fell limp to his side.

"I don't trust you. My best friends are missing. _God_ only knows if they're even still alive, thanks to your family." She stared at his feet. He stared at a patch in the tent's wall above her head. "But I believe that you want to be better than them."

The bitterness in his gut faded.

"Prove me right?" she asked.

He heaved out a sigh, but didn't answer. Maybe he was a coward, after all.


	7. Chapter 7

_"It does not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live."_

—Albus Dumbledore

_In her dream, Hermione was standing at her kitchen counter, peeling an orange while a storm raged outside her window. It was one of those storms that happened just before the sunset, so flecks of tepid golden light bounced between the rain and the trees, casting a sinister green glow in the sky. The trees were shaking in the wind; leaves were flying everywhere, and branches had fallen from the large sycamore in their backyard._

_Her mum sat at the table, reading a novel. Her dad was on the phone in the other room. Despite the pounding of the rain, and the house shaking each time a crack of thunder sounded, Hermione felt safe. She lifted herself onto the tips of her toes to look at the sky. A line of crows flew across the treeline. An involuntary shiver ran between her shoulders. "Is it going to rain all night?" she asked her mother._

_Another crash of thunder shook the foundation of the house. Then the wind stilled. The trees were silenced and the clouds grew thicker, turning the sky dark._

_"Mum?" she asked and turned around. She started when she saw her mother was right behind her, not at the table._

_Hermione watched in horror as her mother's head rolled back with a sickening crack. The bones in her neck broke. The skin ripped open at the base of her throat as a snake emerged. Its split tongue darted right at Hermione's neck._

She sat up, panting, her hair stuck to her forehead with sweat. She shoved the damp blankets off of her and set her bare feet on the floor of the tent. Digging her fingernails into the supple skin of her stomach, she recited the ingredients of Polyjuice Potion under her breath. On each step, she pinched harder. Not hard enough to break the skin, but she knew if she pulled up her shirt, there would be ten crescent moon-shaped indents around her ribs. 

"Add four leeches and two scoops of Lacewings..."

On the other side of the tent, Malfoy sat at the table. He placed the book he was reading down and stood, digging in his pocket. When he reached her bed, he held out a small vial full of purple liquid. Dreamless Sleep Potion. Hermione eyed it skeptically. 

"Take it. I'll never be able to sleep if you keep waking up screaming." 

She hesitantly took it, rolling the vial between her fingers. He stepped away, silently extinguishing the lights in the tent with a wave of his wand. 

"How do I know you didn't poison it?" she asked the darkness. 

She could almost hear the eye-roll in his voice. "Just say thank you and go to sleep." 

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"I'm going back to London today," Malfoy said the next morning. 

Hermione looked up for the _Daily Prophet._ It was several days old at this point, but Hermione was devouring each article, desperate for any hint about the whereabouts of Harry or the rest of the Order. "Where in London?"

"Borgin and Burkes. Maybe the Ministry."

"You don't think that's a little obvious?" Malfoy looked wildly offended. "We're trying to find information to expose them. Now that the Muggles are hanging out in Diagon Alley and around the Ministry, I doubt that the Death Eaters will be having covert meetings there anymore. Do you remember any secret meeting places they had?" 

Malfoy shrugged. "Snape's house, but I was never invited. I don't know where it is." After a moment he added, "Victoria Embankment, maybe. My father used to talk about meetings near Waterloo Bridge." 

"Brilliant," Hermione said. 

After Malfoy gave her the Dreamless Sleep Potion, she slept soundly through the night for the first time in weeks, but she remembered the dream more vividly than any other. She knew Nagini and Voldemort were dead, but the thought of the Death Eaters getting to her parents was unnerving. The Weasleys and Harry were equipped with magic to deal with their enemies. She knew that even though they'd been attacked, there was a good chance they had escaped. Her parents were vulnerable against any attacks; even more so now that they had forgotten about the existence of magic. "I was thinking of going to London as well. To Hampstead." She divided her hair into three sections and folded them over each other in a tight plait. 

"What's in Hampstead?"

"My parents' old house. If the Death Eaters burned down Harry and Ron's houses, they might've been to mine too." 

Malfoy nodded. "Let's start there and then go south to the river." 

Hermione dropped a strand of hair in surprise. She deftly picked it back up and continued the braid, ignoring the new unevenness on the back of her head. She hadn't expected him to suggest they stay together. "We should probably start at the Embankment. We don't want to miss them."

Malfoy nodded and picked up the vials of potions he'd brewed the previous day. He shoved them in Hermione's purse, which was sitting on the table. 

When both of them were finished getting ready and standing outside the tent, Hermione took down the tent and it in her purse as well. She didn't know if they would want to return, but she figured it wouldn't be wise to leave the tent and all of their belongings unattended. 

After transfiguring their faces to be unrecognizable, Malfoy wrapped his hand around Hermione's elbow and apparated them to the north bank of the Thames. 

They landed next to a bench by the Clipper stop. A couple sitting on the bench, who were presumably making out, sprang apart in surprise. No matter how many times she apparated, Hermione still felt queazy after landing. The strangers' unabashed public displays of affection did little to quell her nausea. The couple looked at Malfoy and Hermione nervously, but quickly decided they were no threat and pressed their lips together once again. 

Lamposts lined the riverwalk, featuring flyers and posters of wanted wizards, including Malfoy. What surprised Hermione, though, was the notice informing Muggles of a new law: compulsory conscription. She paled as she scanned the notice: All able-bodied Muggle adults were required to register with the Ministry of Magic for review. Special consideration would be given to parents with young children. 

"We have to stop them before they militarize the entire island," Hermione whispered to Malfoy. 

"In case you forgot, we have _magic_ ," Malfoy countered. "Muggles do not concern me."

"The Statute of Secrecy existed for a reason. Ever heard of the Salem Witch Trials?" Hermione glanced nervously at the couple on the bench, but they appeared to be too engrossed with each other to pay attention to Hermione and Malfoy's conversation. She shook her head. "There are too many of them. We wouldn't stand a chance." 

Malfoy arched a blonde eyebrow, unconvinced. "We better get going then." 

She followed him along the river to Waterloo Bridge. Hermione marveled at the London skyline. It wasn't as impressive or imposing as New York's, or Paris's, or Tokyo, but the dome of St. Paul's and the Gothic towers of Tower Bridge in the distance filled Hermione with an inexplicable sense of pride. She loved this city, and she'd do anything to defend it and its citizens. 

She only hoped Malfoy was on the same page. 

The space underneath the bridge was empty, save for a few pigeons, and a man selling roasted peanuts. Hermione and Malfoy sat on a bench overlooking the Thames. 

The sun moved across the sky slowly. Sweat beaded across her forehead as the clouds dispersed and the humidity rose. Hermione stiffened every time a jogger or cyclist passed them, expecting it to be a Death Eater. She knew the likelihood of one of them coming to this exact spot at this exact time was slim to none, but she couldn't help but be anxious. 

For the first hour or so, Hermione wracked her brain for conversation topics. Aside from Hogwarts, the two them didn't have much in common, and even their experience at school was vastly different. After a while, she gave up and resigned herself to the quiet lap of waves against the embankment. 

The Clipper chugged past them once, twice, three times, before she lost count. More than one person stopped to ask them if they had a moment to talk about Jesus Christ, or if they would be willing to donate to save the dolphins, or if they knew where the nearest Pret a Manger was. Malfoy ignored every passerby while Hermione politely declined each one. 

Once the sun passed its peak and morning faded into early afternoon, Hermione stood up to buy a bag of peanuts nuts from the vendor under the bridge. She didn't offer any to Malfoy. 

The entire time they sat there, Malfoy's eyes never strayed from the bridge. With each passing minute, his shoulders seemed to hunch higher and the lines in his forehead grew deeper. 

"I'm going to go up to Hampstead now," she said, finally. "It shouldn't take too long. I can meet you back here within the hour."

"I'll come with you," he said, turning away from the bridge and towards Hermione. 

"Are you sure? Bellatrix or someone else might still come."

"No, this was a bad idea." Malfoy shook his head and relaxed his shoulders. His face remained impassive, but Hermione saw the storm of impatience and resentment in his stony eyes. 

"It wasn't a bad idea, it was just a shot in the dark. Once we find Har-"

His lips tightened. "Potter will save the day. I know, I've been hearing that since I before I was toilet-trained." 

"Right," Hermione breathed. "Sorry." Tentatively, she took his hand in hers and apparated to Hampstead. 

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Draco had never been to Hampstead. He didn't see the appeal of living in a city, especially a Muggle city. Every time he visited Diagon Alley, he was stepping in chewing gum and pigeon shit. And the air was always thick with the smell of trash and gas. 

If he had to live in the city, he supposed Hampstead would have been a nice place to live. In the northernmost parts, it almost felt like a suburb. The houses lining the street were all spacious; two or three stories with large garages and front yards. Maybe after he killed Bellatrix, he'd move out here. His mother would certainly want to stay in the lavish mansion she'd grown accustomed to over the last twenty years, but after she died, he could sell the Manor. Maybe he could find a woman with whom to share his new life. A foreign witch, probably, who didn't know of his family's reputation. 

Or maybe he would live out the rest of his days in quiet solitude. He'd live sixty, maybe seventy more years out here in London. When he died, the shame of the Malfoy name would go with him. 

Maybe he would get lucky and die fighting. At least then he might be remembered for doing something worthwhile. 

He followed Granger up the driveway of a house in the middle of the street. It had a _For Sale_ sign in the yard. Granger had mentioned that her parents used to live here; he wondered where they were now. If they were missing their daughter. 

He wondered if his mother missed him. 

"Alohamora." She waved her wand at the doorknob and opened it, allowing Draco to enter first. He heard her exhale was sounded like a sigh of relief when she followed him in. The house appeared untouched. 

He heard a sniffle from behind him and turned to see her surreptitiously wiping a tear from her eye with her sleeve. 

"You good?" he asked. 

She nodded and laughed, but now the tears were freely flowing down her face. "Sorry. It's my first time being back since I- since they left." 

He turned away from her again and examined the wallpaper. It was a horrid shade of sage. "You apologize too much." 

"Sorry," she said. "I did it again, I'm so- I mean-"

"Granger," he said to shut her up. 

"Right," she muttered and walked to the kitchen. 

Draco watched in fascination as a Muggle car drove down the street. The windows were rolled down, and he could hear the girls inside singing aloud. A girl about ten years old walked by with a poodle. Three boys, a few years younger than Draco, stood across the street, passing around a cigarette. He'd always felt bad for Muggles. To live a life without magic. To never know the feeling of being on a broom, hundreds of feet above the air. To feel the electricity running through their veins as they mastered a difficult spell. To have unlimited power coursing through them. 

But they had probably never been asked to kill someone before. They probably never felt the crushing weight of having to choose between your family and the rest of the world. They'd never felt Fiendfyre licking at their heels. 

The harsh realization that soon the war would affect the Muggles as much as it had affected him hit Draco like a brick in the head. Even worse, he realized that he didn't want that to be their reality. Those boys smoking a cigarette deserved to be able to make dumb decisions for the next few years. The girl walking the dog deserved to grow up without fearing for her life. This was about more than killing Bellatrix; it was about the truth. 

He bowed his head and rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. If only there were a way to steal memories and mass produce them so the Muggles knew what the Death Eaters _really_ wanted. 

Draco learned Legilimency earlier that year. In the right conditions, Draco could extract memories. He searched the deepest corners of his mind for any spells he heard from his father that could duplicate memories. _Geminio_ might work, but it would be time-consuming. 

He removed his hands from his face. A slim piece of parchment stuck between the floorboard and the wall caught his eye. "Granger," he called out. Curious, he crouched down and picked it up. 

_H- Dobby_

Draco felt his eyebrows pull together. Dobby? His family's old house-elf. 

"What?" Granger asked. 

He held out the parchment and stood, wiping his hands on his jeans. He watched her lips form the shape of the name over and over again. 

The corners of her lips pulled up in a smile. "I know where they are." 


	8. Chapter 8

_"We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on."_

—Sirius Black

"They're at Bill and Fleur Weasley's home in Cornwall. It's where we buried Dobby." 

"Are you sure this is not a trap?" Malfoy sounded apprehensive. 

"I can't be sure, but it's the best lead we have right now."

The two of them were walking down the street, putting some distance between themselves and Hermione's old house before they apparated. 

"I had an idea," he said. An older man on a bicycle passed them and Hermione sped up. Staying in one place for too long almost always spelled trouble. "If we get memories from Bellatrix and Dolohov and the rest of the Death Eaters, there might be a way to project them somehow. Somewhere the Muggles would see it. They couldn't deny that the Death Eaters are using them if it comes straight from the horse's mouth."

Hermione furrowed her brow, thinking of all the holes in the plan. "Maybe. I don't know any spell that would do that but Har-" She caught the glare forming on Malfoy's face out of the corner of her eye. "Someone else might. The hardest part would be proving to the Muggles that we haven't doctored or fabricated the memories. They don't understand the rules of magic and it might still appear to be our word against theirs. Of course, we also would need someone who could perform Legilimency. I've tried, and I can't quite master it, but..." She looked up at him, her eyes wide with suspicion. "Can you?" 

He shrugged, which Hermione took as an affirmative. "Oh," she said, thoroughly impressed. She'd always known he was clever, but good marks in school didn't always translate into skill. 

"We should get a Pensieve," she continued. "The only one I know of is at Hogwarts." 

"Let's go, then," he said, turning on the spot and vanishing into thin air, grabbing Hermione as he did. 

A soft breeze replaced the London mugginess as they touched down in the Highlands. Hermione expected the usual fuzziness in her stomach when she saw Hogwarts Castle again, but instead felt a rock in her chest. It descended into her stomach, gaining weight every moment, pulling her down. The turrets were shadows against the grey sky, looming above them. The Whomping Willow was the only sign of movement, whipping its branches like tentacles. 

"The apparition wards must be back up," said Malfoy. "This is as close as we can get." Icy terror pinched the space between Hermione's shoulderblades. Someone had put up the protective enchantments. Logic dictated that meant someone was trying to protect something within the castle. 

High Street in Hogsmeade was busier than normal. "They're everywhere," Malfoy said beside her. Two young women exited Zonko's, laughing at a Nose-Biting Teacup as if they had never seen one before. Hermione grew tired of the juvenile pranks sold at Zonko's in her second year, but she supposed for Muggles, these tricks were still novel. 

"So are we," she said, nodding towards more posters and flyers warning passersby of the dangers of the Order of the Phoenix. She led Malfoy to an alley and cast a Disillusionment Charm over herself, prompting him to do the same. The two of them began the trek up the hill to the castle. Which each step, the rock in Hermione's stomach grew lighter. The castle still looked in terrible shape. Bricks from the roof were strewn about the grass leading up to the front entrance. There were holes in the walls. Shattered glass. Dust crumbling from the structure. No one had yet repaired the damage from the Battle. It appeared that no one had been here since she and Malfoy left a week ago. Maybe she'd been wrong; the Death Eaters had taken up base somewhere else. Either way, she was grateful for the added protection of the Disillusionment Charm.

The virtue of a Disillusionment Charm was that Death Eaters could not see them. The deficiency, of course, was that Hermione and Malfoy could no longer see each other. With great reluctance, Hermione fumbled for Malfoy's wrist, so they couldn't be separated. The muscles of his forearm stiffened in surprise at her grasp. "Granger?" 

"Yeah," she confirmed. He relaxed under her touch. A shiver crept up the back of Hermione's neck as they crossed the threshold into Hogwarts. The temperature dropped several degrees. Even in the dim light under the stormy sky, there seemed to be a grey filter over Hermione's vision. 

Even from the top of the hill, Hermione could hear the hum of laughter and chatter from Hogsmeade. Her cheeks flushed with anger: didn't any of them realize they were standing on a battlefield? A burial ground, even, as she imagined no one had moved the bodies from the Great Hall. 

The putrid scent of death and decay penetrated her nostrils, proving her correct, as she and Malfoy entered Hogwarts and walked by the Great Hall. She gagged as bile rose in her throat. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over her cheeks. 

She swallowed the bile and all her sorrow and regret. 

"Where's the Pensieve?" Malfoy asked. 

"Dumbledore's office," Hermione whispered back. There was no sign of life on the ground floor, but Hermione was still paranoid that someone could overhear them. With Malfoy's arm still wrapped in a vice, she pulled him up the stairs to the Headmaster's Tower. 

It hadn't been Dumbledore's office for over a year, but she couldn't imagine anyone else occupying it. When Dumbledore had been Headmaster, the password was always different sweets. Hermione had only been there a handful of times herself, but Harry went often and had told her enough for her to recognize the patterns. 

Snape's passwords would be far more difficult to guess. How had Harry gained access during the battle? 

Hermione's grip on Malfoy had loosened as they climbed. She was too lost in her thoughts to notice a flicker of movement coming from down the hallway. She sucked in a sharp breath as she was jerked back against the wall. A flash of dark robes and greasy hair faltered in front of them. Hermione tensed her shoulders and refused to exhale. _Snape_. 

His beady eyes stared right into hers as if he could penetrate the Disillusionment Charm. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands and felt her eyes widen in fear. 

" _Severus!_ " a throaty voice sounded from the other end of the hall. 

Snape lifted his chin and looked down at Hermione over his hooked nose. "Coming," he said, without looking away from the teenagers in front of him. He remained for several more moments and then continued walking down the hallway, his robes billowing behind him. Hermione let out a shaky breath. She opened her mouth to speak, but, as if he could sense it, Malfoy placed a hand on her wrist, silencing her. 

Three more masked figures past them in the hallway. When they disappeared around the corner, Malfoy dropped her hand and the Disillusionment Charm. Hermione followed suit. They stopped in front of the golden gargoyle stationed outside the entrance. 

She felt Malfoy's eyes burning into the side of her head, but she didn't look at him. Harry hadn't said how he'd been able to gain access to the office. She didn't want to take a guess at a password and risk being incorrect and humiliating herself in front of Draco Malfoy, of all people. 

"Well?" Malfoy finally snapped. 

"Well, what?" she stalled, still not looking at him. 

He gestured to the gargoyle impatiently. "How do we get in?" 

She scratched her hand, glancing over her shoulder to ensure no more Death Eaters were passing by. "I'm not exactly sure..."

"Oh," he said, turning around himself. "Brightest witch of our age, my fucking _ass_ ," he muttered.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "I don't see you doing anything to help."

He glared at her and forcefully exhaled. "Did Dumbledore ever..." He trailed off, interrupted by the sound of creaking metal. The gargoyle was spiraling upwards, leaving the staircase behind it. With an ugly, smug smirk, he said, "What were you saying about me not helping?" Without waiting for a response, he marched up the stairs, whistling. 

"Jammy git," said Hermione, but she followed close behind him. The office looked, for the most part, as she remembered it, except that most of the portraits of past headmasters had sheets and coverings over them. Dumbledore included. Goosebumps prickled on Hermione's arms. What had Snape being doing in here that even the dead couldn't see?

She walked over to the Pensieve. Harry had attempted to explain the foreign sensation of reliving someone's memories to her and Ron. Still, she was wildly curious to experience it for herself. 

"How are we going to get it out of here?" Malfoy asked. 

"With magic," Hermione said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which, to a wizard, it should have been. " _Geminio_ ," she said, waving her wand. An identical Pensieve appeared beside the original. " _Reducio._ " The original Pensieve shrank to the size of a small paperback book. She picked it up and handed it to Malfoy, who shoved it in the pocket of his jacket. With one final flick of her wand, she moved the duplicate into the place of the original. "It won't function, but it should fool anyone until they try to use it." Hermione was quite proud of herself. After nearly two weeks of feeling lost in the dark, she, and Malfoy, had a sense of direction. They knew where Harry and Ron were, and they weren't going to show up empty-handed. Everything was finally feeling back to normal. Or, as normal as things could be. 

When she was sure the fake Pensieve was in the same position as the original, she pocketed her wand and turned to Malfoy. But he was gone. 

"Malfoy?" she asked, dropping her voice again. 

"Disillusionment Charm," said a voice right behind her right ear. Despite not being able to see him, she quickly found him and shoved him away from her. 

"Don't be slimy," she said, casting the charm over herself and becoming invisible. The pair descended back down, feeling fortunate not to run into any Death Eaters in the halls of Hogwarts or on their way back down to Hogsmeade. 

It hadn't felt like they'd been inside the castle for too long, but the sun had dipped behind the castle. Hermione's eyelids were drooping. The crowd had thinned considerably, but Hermione still scolded Malfoy when he let his invisibility charm falter. 

"It'll be more suspicious if we bump into someone when we're invisible."

"Not necessarily," Hermione said. "Muggles are desperate for information. They'll fill in the blanks on their own; call us ghosts or something." But Malfoy wasn't listening. With a huff, she followed him, keeping her own charm up. They strode through High Street. Hermione stayed behind Malfoy to avoid running into anyone. They needed to get far enough away from the small crowd to disapparate without drawing attention to themselves. 

Much to Hermione's annoyance, Malfoy stopped outside of Honeydukes. "I'm going to get some chocolate frogs."

"No! We have to leave!" Her confidence from evading Snape and the Death Eaters was waning. 

"Calm down. I haven't had chocolate in ages. Do you want anything?" 

"No! Just, hurry up!" 

Hermione stood, flush against the bricks of the sweet shop, biting her nails until Malfoy returned. _What a bloody idiot_. Honestly, who could even think of sweets at a time like this? They were so close to reuniting with Harry and Ron-

 _Oh._ He was stalling. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him holding up a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Had she dragged him into coming with her when he didn't want to? 

No, he had no problem speaking his mind. He would've told her if he didn't want to. Or he would have simply left in the middle of the night. She supposed it would be difficult for the boys to get over their differences and work together. It would be largely up to her to try to reconcile those differences, though she felt ill-equipped to do it. She wasn't even sure she and Malfoy were friends yet; all they seemed to do was argue. 

She did admire him. His quick wit and sarcasm. And she was glad she had company, even if it was her childhood bully. Malfoy was the one who came up with the plan to perform Legilimency on the Death Eaters. Since Harry still couldn't do it, they needed him. Yes, she'd lead with that. Harry would have no choice but to keep Draco around. 

"Granger?" he asked when he emerged. "I got you some Lemon Drops. I don't know what you like, but your personality is sour, so I assumed-"

"Great, that's really kind of you. Let's go," she said, pushing him to move down the street. 

As they walked, Hermione still concealed, a hush of whispers fell over the street. 

"Go," she hissed in his ear and she hastened her pace. A number of fingers were pointed at Malfoy. Several people were glancing back and forth between him and the poster. _I told you so!_ she wanted to yell at him. She broke into a run, finding it hard to concentrate on keeping track of Malfoy, avoiding Muggles, and keeping up the illusion of her invisibility. 

" _Flipendo,_ " Malfoy pulled his wand and was shooting spells at the small crowd. " _Impedimenta_."

Hermione didn't have time to reprimand him for hexing Muggles. Several wizards in dark robes, but without masks, exited the Hog's Head Inn from across the street. The sound of blood rushing in her ears drowned out the sound of their voices, but she managed to catch one word: _Mudblood_.

She whipped out her own wand and cast the full body bind curse on two of the wizards. She didn't know if they were Death Eaters or not, but it was better to be safe than sorry. When Bellatrix emerged from the inn with a nasally laugh, Hermione grabbed Malfoy's hand. 

If they didn't leave immediately, Bellatrix would kill Hermione without a second thought. There might be more hesitation with Draco since they were family, but Hermione couldn't think of a good enough reason to risk it. Besides, if Draco had the opportunity, he would kill Bellatrix, no matter the cost. And in a crowd of people who blindly followed Bellatrix, the cost would be his life. 

It was more important to get him, the only person she knew who could perform Legilimency, to safety. Not to mention, he had the Pensieve. If she lost it, she didn't know how she'd get her hands on another one. Bellatrix was only one head of the Hydra. Killing her wouldn't solve anything. 

Hermione continued to cast the Impediment Curse on the Muggles, in a vain attempt to keep them at bay. The crowd advanced at the same speed that Hermione and Malfoy were retreating. Apparition was a science: if they started too close to the hoards of people, they would be caught before they could fully disappear. With each step, Hermione was recalculating the distance in her mind. But there were so many of them; it was impossible to account for the speed of all of them. 

The crowd sped up, gaining on them. _Fuck it_ , Hermione thought, still holding his hand. They'd have to risk it. 

Out of nowhere, a short, bald man in a police uniform pushed his way through the crowd, brandishing a small pistol. Hermione froze. "Put your wand down!" he shouted with a strong Irish accent. 

" _Crucio!_ " said Malfoy.

She wasn't paying close enough attention to know if he had cursed the Muggle or one of the Death Eaters. Either way, Hermione's mouth went dry. She sucked in her lips and focused on getting them to safety. She could yell at him later. Regardless of his intent, a scream echoed through the streets. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Hermione threw up a silent Shield Charm as she prepared to apparate them to Shell Cottage. 

" _Avada Keda-_ " she heard Bellatrix begin to say, but Hermione disappeared before the Killing Curse hit her. She landed in Cornwall, grunting as her knees hit the sand. 

The lull of the waves against the shoreline let her know she was exactly where she was supposed to be. A soft breeze cooled her skin and calmed her racing adrenaline. She was safe. The sky was pitch dark now, but she could see the soft, warm glow from inside Shell Cottage. The silhouetted figure of a boy passed by the window. By the strands of hair standing up in every direction, she knew it was Harry. Not long after, the taller figure that she immediately recognized as Ron came to stand next to him. Warmth spread in Hermione's chest. It was the inexplicable feeling of coming home.

She stood up to run into the house before she realized Malfoy wasn't with her. 


	9. Chapter 9

_"Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect."_

—Luna Lovegood

Hermione's chest rose and fell in rhythm with the tide. The balmy summer breeze blew around her, whipping her hair around her face. She tugged strands of hair out of her mouth as she fell back to the ground. Reciting the ingredients of Polyjuice Potion, she pinched the fat on her stomach. "Two bundles of knotgrass; stir four times, counter-clockwise," she whispered. Would he be right behind her?

No. She'd told him Shell Cottage was in Cornwall, but she hadn't said where exactly. She didn't even give him the name of the house. He wouldn't be able to find his way here on his own.

She sat up, letting her shoulders fall. Harry and Ron had disappeared from the window. She dug up fistfuls of sand and held it in her open palms.

It would be so easy to walk through that door and wait for Harry to tell her what to do. Let him shoulder some of this burden. But she couldn't leave Draco to the wolves. He had the Pensieve. He was the one who knew Legilimency. More than that, she was beginning to think of him as a friend, and she suspected he felt the same way. Despite his arrogance and superiority complex, he was witty and sarcastic, and she found herself enjoying spending time with him.

Of course, she would never tell _him_ that.

She couldn't deny after his use of the Cruciatus Curse that he deserved a few hexes; when they reunited, she would use Ginny's famous Bat-Bogey Hex. But he didn't deserve to _die_.

If she returned to Hogsmeade for him, there was a very real chance that she would die. The thought alone didn't bother her much anymore, but as she thought of Ron and Harry, she knew she couldn't do that to them. They both had already lost so much.

Like the piles of sand, Hermione felt like she could hold all of her hope in the palm of her hand. And like the handful of dry sand, the tighter she squeezed, the quicker her hope slipped through her fingers.

A drop of water fell onto her hands. Instinctively, she lifted her sandy fingers to her cheeks. She hadn't even realized she'd been crying. She wiped at the tears of frustration, but the grains of sand clung to her damp skin.

That was the thing about sand. You spend a few minutes with it, and then you find it in your clothes and in your car and on your body for days afterward.

For a moment, she considered going inside and asking them to accompany her back to Hogsmeade, but she dismissed the thought. Harry and Ron had saved his life before. She suspected Draco's luck had run out when it came to them. Instead, she slunk through the night and left her purse under a rock near the front door. A silent promise to return. And if she didn't return, they would know she'd been there, and they wouldn't come looking for her.

She took one last look at the inky black waves. She couldn't go back to Hogsmeade. Draco would have been smart enough to apparate somewhere else; somewhere Hermione would know to find him. Nowhere too obvious: Malfoy Manor and Grimmauld Place were out of the question. Victoria Embankment, maybe. Hampstead was less likely.

King's Cross. That's where they'd met last time.

With a loud, echoing, _crack_ , she disappeared into the night. Hopefully, Draco had an ounce of common sense in his head.

Hermione found a bench outside the station and sat down. Her knee jerked up and down as she scanned the commuters exiting and entering. She wished she could cast a Disillusionment Charm. Better yet, she wished she had Harry's invisibility cloak. But she needed Draco to be able to find her. It was nearing ten o'clock and the restaurants and pubs lining Euston Road were packed.

Her spot gave her a good vantage point to survey the area surrounding King's Cross and St. Pancras, while also providing some cover in the shadows. The moon was full, and although clouds obscured it, it was bright enough to light the streets.

Every seven seconds, Hermione checked her watch, and every time, she was surprised to see that only seven seconds had passed. When her leg grew tired of bouncing, she switched to drumming her fingers on her jeans. How long should she wait? If Bellatrix killed Draco, it wouldn't take long for the news to break. In the morning, she would find a newspaper. Until then, she would sit and wait.

And wait. And wait and wait.

After midnight, she began counting the rats that scurried underneath her bench. After the third rat, she picked her legs up off the ground and sat cross-legged on the bench. At one point, her eyes closed of their own accord. Her lead lulled backward, hitting the brick wall. She blinked rapidly and shook her head.

"Granger!"

She jumped to her feet, her heart soaring in relief at the sight of Draco's pale hair. Without preamble, she tightened her fingers around his and disapparated to Shell Cottage.

This time, she landed on her feet. The wind had calmed in the past few hours and the cottage was dark, save for one candle in one of the upstairs windows. The Weasleys and Harry were likely fast asleep.

Her heart sped up. She'd known Harry and Ron were there; she saw them. But how many other of her friends were there? Ginny and George could be inside as well. She turned to Draco, who was still kneeling on the sand, catching his breath.

"Are you okay?" she asked, shoving a lock of hair out of her face and dropping to her knees next to him.

He nodded.

"Good." She shoved him with both hands, causing him to fall onto one elbow.

"What was that for?" He stood up, rubbing his hand on his chest, where she'd pushed him, although she knew she hadn't hurt him.

"For using the Cruciatus Curse on Muggles!"

With a sigh, he held out his hand and helped Hermione to her feet. She ignored him and brushed the sand off her jeans as she stood.

"He pulled a gun on us," he said, his tone much more even than hers.

"That doesn't give you the right to torture them!"

"Doesn't' it? As far as we know, you and I are the best chance this country has. You aren't willing to sacrifice one bastard for the good of the rest of us?" She opened her mouth to retort, but he continued. "You weren't there seventh year. You didn't live underneath Voldemort's finger for two years. You and Potter-"

"Harry killed Voldemort. He won the battle because you were too much of a coward to stand up to your family. And _he_ never hurt a Muggle."

"You just worship the ground he walks on, don't you?" His grey eyes bore into hers. She couldn't look at them, so she fixed her gaze on his nose. He scoffed, kicking at the sand. She blinked as some of it her face, pricking her cheeks like a million tiny needles. "You have too much faith in him."

Hermione clenched and unclenched her fists as she steadied her breathing. Harry didn't need her to defend him. Not against Malfoy. But apparently, Malfoy needed to defend her. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, and she could see the black outlines of the cliffs in the distance. "Why did you let go of me?"

"What?"

"I was going to get us out of there, but then you let go of me." She let out an impatient breath when he didn't answer. "Bellatrix was going to kill me."

"Don't flatter yourself," he said, his eyes snapping back up to hers. "I didn't go after her to defend your honor. I saw an opportunity, and I took it."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Did you?"

"No. I managed to hit Yaxley with a Crucio, but when they got too close, I panicked and went to your old house." He hesitated, and Hermione knew what was about to say before the words left his lips. "It's gone. Burned down."

She tightened her lips. She figured it was only a matter of time. It didn't hurt as much as she expected. Maybe when she saw it for herself she would feel sad, but for now, she would use it as motivation to fight harder.

Her anger and apprehension at Draco's earlier actions faded. The tension in her shoulderblades released. Her adrenaline had vanished, too. Now, all she wanted was to curl up in a big pile of blankets by the fireplace and fall asleep to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

Draco, she knew, wasn't as anxious to be under the same roof as Harry and Ron.

"Look, I understand if you don't want to stay here, with us."

"Don't be ridiculous, you need me. Potter can't do Legilimency, can he?"

"I only meant, if you want, I'll help you find somewhere else to stay, and I'll coordinate all of us. They won't even have to know that you and I are working together."

Draco swallowed and jerked his chin behind her, towards the house. "I think they know."

The lights in the cottage were on. Harry and Ron stood in the doorway. "Hermione!" A grin split across her face as she turned her back on Draco and ran towards her friends.

Draco stood silently behind, getting pelted by the sand she kicked up as she ran.


	10. Chapter 10

_"Scared, Potter?"_

—Draco Malfoy

Draco shoved his hands in his pockets and bowed his head as he shuffled forward. He maintained a respectful distance and watched Hermione embrace her friends. 

"Thank God you're safe," Weasley murmured against her hair. 

_God?_ Draco thought. _Bloody idiot should be thanking_ me _for keeping her alive these past few weeks._

"Here, come inside," said Potter, ushering her through the open door. "I'll put some water on for tea." 

Draco's blood ran green with envy. He'd had friends at Hogwarts: Pansy, Theo, Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise. But those were friendships of convenience. They were all in Slytherin, most of their parents were Death Eaters. The six of them hung out together, but they didn't take care of each other the way Potter, Weasley, and Hermione always seemed to. 

For the first time since she'd cursed him in the Room of Requirement, she looked relaxed. Confident that now she was with them, everything would be okay. Draco had never felt that way with his Slytherin friends. Loath as he was to admit it, he'd only felt that confidence when he was with Hermione. 

Hermione glanced over her shoulder, meeting Draco's eyes. For the first time, Potter and Weasley seemed to notice his presence. Potter's eyes immediately darkened and his eyebrows contracted. Weasley brandished his wand. 

"Put it away, Ronald," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. 

"What's he doing here?" Weasley jabbed his wand in Draco's direction. 

Draco didn't feel threatened by him, especially since, after spending two weeks with Hermione, he knew they wouldn't curse him with anything worse than a Stunning Spell. Out of habit, though, he pulled out his own wand but kept it pointed at the ground. 

"Let's go inside," Hermione said, pulling on Weasley's elbow. Draco felt like all the oxygen was being sucked from his brain, until he saw the expectant look on Hermione's face, and realized she meant him as well. She picked her bag up off of the ground and slung it over her shoulder.

Weasley stepped in front of Potter and Hermione, chest puffed out in an ostentatious, albeit futile, display of dominance. "The ferret is not welcome inside." 

Draco's gut clenched as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He stepped forward. Weasley was several inches taller, but Draco countered him with his arrogance. "You should be begging for my help, filthy blood-traitor."

"Oh, for the love of-" Hermione moved between the two of them, holding up both her hands to the redhead's chest. "Draco's here to _help_." She sent a pointed look in his direction; her words were as admonishing as they were informative. "And we are all going to be civil." 

Weasley was still looking over Hermione's head, straight at Draco. Draco lifted his chin a fraction of a degree and arched an eyebrow. "He's a bloody Death Eater."

Hermione shrugged. "All the more reason to be nice to him."

Weasley finally broke eye contact with Draco and turned his glare to Hermione. 

"It's late," she said, "and I'm tired. And I would not have figured out where you were if not for him." 

Draco frowned at her lie. He was the one who found the note, but he was certain Hermione could have found it on her own. She should have told them he was the one who came up with the brilliant plan to expose the Pureblood supremacists, but Draco expected he would have plenty of time to brag about it tomorrow when they were all rested. 

Weasley didn't move from the doorframe. "Trust me," Hermione whispered. "We were alone together for two weeks. He could have killed me if he wanted to."

Potter, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, wasn't so quick to agree. He said, "Unless he's under orders to deliver all three of us to Bellatrix. Maybe he used you to find us." 

Hermione spun around to face Draco. He couldn't help the smirk that flitted across his lips. For the first time, he noticed how small she was compared to the rest of them. Her presence was so distinct; her physical stature didn't take up as much space as he thought.

"Give me your wand," she said. 

"No." He cradled the hawthorn stick protectively to his side. 

"Give it to her," said Potter. "Or Ron and I will take it from you. Who would you rather keep it?" 

"Like you two could take it from me," he scoffed, but he handed it over to Hermione. He may as well have cut off his right arm and handed it over. Snape had begun to teach him wandless magic, but he couldn't perform any spells of consequence. _Lumos_ was probably the most powerful one he could muster. 

Hermione held the wand with reverence, carefully tucking it up her sleeve, which Draco appreciated. "Thank you," she said. Stifling a yawn, she pushed past Potter and strode into the cottage. Weasley and Potter appeared reluctant to allow Draco to pass, but without a wand, he was ostensibly harmless. 

Draco recognized the petite blonde sitting on the couch, with her feet propped on the coffee table, as Fleur Delacour. The tall redhead next to her, he deduced, was the eldest Weasley brother, Bill. They took turns embracing Hermione, who thanked them profusely for their hospitality and apologized for dropping in unannounced. 

"Draco Malfoy?" Bill held his hand out. Draco simply stared at it. Bill paid no mind to Draco's discomfort. "I'm Bill. Make yourself at home."

Draco nodded his thanks, shifting his weight, and looking at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. 

"We only have three bedrooms," Bill continued. "Hermione, if you don't mind sharing with either Harry or Ron, or the two of them can share, and Draco can sleep on the couch." 

"I don't mind taking the couch," Hermione said before Draco could accept. Potter started to protest, but she interrupted. "I'd rather be close to an exit." She twisted her hands and kept her eyes trained on the floor. 

Potter and Weasley relented. With one more suspicious glance at Draco over their shoulders, the two of them shuffled off to rearrange their rooming situation. Bill and Fleur followed, leaving Draco and Hermione alone. 

"Here," she said when the floorboards on the stairs ceased creaking. She held out his wand. "Don't let them see it." 

He took it and ran his finger down the length of the wood. Before he had a chance to ask why she returned it, she said, "I can't expect you to trust us if I don't trust you." 

He cocked an eyebrow and stood up straight. She seemed smaller, now that Potter and Weasley were gone, but her quiet confidence still commanded the attention of the room. Even if he was currently the only member of her audience. "I thought you would be smarter than to arm your enemy." 

She crossed her arms and tilted her head as her lips curled up into a smile. "You think I'm smart?" 

"It's not cute to pretend like you don't already know." He tapped the top of her head with his wand and walked up the stairs. 

"Draco?" she asked. He stopped and turned around. "You're not the enemy. And I'm not yours." 

He nodded. "Noted." 

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶ ⚯͛ ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Hermione couldn't remember her nightmare when she woke up. 

The only she did remember was a flash of green light, and then the feeling of falling. She scrambled to rip off the fleece blanket she wrapped herself in, but it seemed to be stuck on her and suffocating her like the tentacles of the giant squid in the Black Lake at Hogwarts. When she finally sat up, her chest heaved. Bits of hair were plastered to her forehead with sweat but despite the sweater, blanket, and sweat, she was still shivering. 

She pinched the skin around her stomach, letting the pain ground her back to reality. "One measure of boomslang skin.. No, no, no." She pinched harder, sucking in a deep breath. " _Three_ measures of boomslang skin. One measure of bicorn horn. Crush to a fine powder." _Breathe_. She placed her feet flat on the floor. 

She wondered if Draco had any extra Dreamless Sleep Potion. 

After gulping down a glass of water, Hermione walked out the front door, still barefoot with the fleece blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, casting a tepid, pink glow on the water. The clouds looked like cotton candy. Though it was still early morning, the wind was still and the sand felt warm underneath her feet. Other than the chirping of birds and the soft lapping of the sea against the shoreline, it was silent. 

Closer to the water, sitting up with his elbows draped over his knees, was Harry. Hermione hesitated and looked back at the cottage. She didn't want to bother Harry if he wanted to be alone. But she hadn't seen him in two weeks. Surely he wouldn't be bothered by his best friend. 

Harry seemed to sense her before she reached him. He looked up at her with a tight, but genuine smile. 

"Mind if I join you?" she asked. She didn't wait for him to answer before sitting down next to him and offering him half of the blanket. 

He wrapped it around himself and pressed his shoulder against hers. "How are you?" 

Hermione pulled the blanket tighter and rested her head against his shoulder. "I'm not the one who died. How are you?" 

"Alive. I guess that's all I can ask for." 

They sat in silence, watching the sun creep up in the sky. Hermione wished she could think of something to break the silence, but her mind was splintering like cracking glass. At any moment, it was going to shatter into a million tiny pieces. 

The only thing she could think to say was _I missed you_ , but she knew if she tried to speak those words, her voice would falter and she'd break into tears. Besides, she had a feeling he already knew. Instead, she drew lines in the sand with her toes and enjoyed the sensation of the wind rushing through her hair. 

"Ginny and George send their love," Harry said after a while. "I sent an owl last night. They're in Bristol with the rest of the Order. Ron and I didn't know how to send you there without risking exposing the exact location, so we figured we'd meet you here and travel there together when they've secured the area." 

Hermione nodded.

"They rebranded," he said. "We're called Order of the Thestral now." The meaning of the note in Grimmauld Place finally clicked in Hermione's mind. "Muggles think the Order of the Phoenix is a hate group, but maybe they'd be more willing to trust the Order of the Thestral."

"How long until Bellatrix catches on?" 

"I don't know. We'll have to move quickly." Harry rubbed a hand over his face. "I was hoping you would have a plan." 

"Draco does, actually." 

Harry scoffed. "Great."

"I think it could work." She didn't know what she would do if Harry disagreed. She would fight him on it, but he was stubborn to a fault. If he said no, the Order would follow him, rather than Hermione and Draco, no matter how logical their plan was. 

Harry looked apprehensive as she explained Draco's plan: Use Legilimency to view the Death Eaters' incriminating memories. Once Draco had access to them, he could pull them out of his own head and store them in the Pensieve. With McGonagall's help, Hermione would find, or create, a spell to duplicate the memories and project them across Britain. "It won't be enough to make the Muggles change sides, but it'll put enough doubt in their minds to stop them from blindly joining their ranks." 

Harry sighed and scratched the back of his head. 

"You don't think it'll work?" she asked. 

He shrugged. "I don't trust anything that comes out of his mouth." 

"You don't have to trust him. I'm asking you to trust _me_." 

"Good morning!" Hermione and Harry looked up to see Ron standing directly above them. Hermione leaned away from Harry, allowing Ron to sit between them. He wrapped his arms around both of them. Hermione reveled in the overwhelming peace of the familiar. 

"You know, Hermione, Malfoy is a right twit, but I'm impressed you lasted two weeks with me," Ron said. 

Harry laughed. "You really worried Ron and I when we thought you might be dead, but that would've been a better fate than being stuck with Malfoy." 

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she laughed too. "It's _Ron and me_ , dimwit." 

Harry gave her a blank stare. 

"You use 'and I' when it's the subject of the sentence and 'and me' when it's the object-" 

"Hey, Hermione," Ron said and tossed a handful of sand at her legs. "We finished school. Who the hell cares about sentence structure anymore?" 

She gasped and scooted away from him, pushing herself up on her knees and shoveling a pile of sand back in his direction. 

Ron, with a sardonic glare, stood up and lunged at Hermione, who squealed and ran back towards the house. Harry lay down on the blanket, clutching his sides with laughter as Ron caught Hermione around the waist and dragged her towards the water. 

"Ronald Bilius Weasley! Let go of me!" she shouted, but it was impossible to mistake her playful words for anger. Harry stood to join them in the water. By the time he reached them, Ron had splashed enough water at Hermione to drench her head to toe. She retaliated by pushing him down, submerging him completely in the cool waves. Harry was able to roll the pants of his jeans up to his knees before Hermione pulled him in as well. The sun was now fully visible above the horizon, and the water glittered in its light. 

Hermione floated on her back, picking out shapes in the clouds overhead while Harry and Ron continued to splash each other. This was right. This was what life was supposed to look like after Harry killed Voldemort. Under the sun, finally reunited with her best friends, Hermione was almost able to forget about the world outside of this safe haven. 

Until a tawny owl soared down from the mountains, depositing a letter on the front stoop. 


	11. Chapter 11

_"What's comin' will come, an' we'll meet it when it does."_

—Rubeus Hagrid

Every time Hermione felt like she was getting her footing and regaining balance, someone pulled the rug out from underneath her. She sat at the kitchen table, between Ron and Fleur. Harry was perched on the corner next to Bill, and Draco had emerged from his room, leaning in the doorframe. 

"Is everyone okay?" Hermione asked, her voice tight with anxiety. She and the boys had changed out of their wet clothes, but her hair was still soaked with saltwater. Both of her hands were wrapped around a hot mug of tea. 

"Luna broke her leg," said Bill. "And Kingsley got pretty beat up, but everyone will be fine." 

Hermione tried to catch Harry's eye from across the room, but he kept his eyes on the floor. His brow was furrowed in concentration. Ginny sent an owl with a message that said the Order's base in Bristol had been attacked and not to track them down until they had a new secure location. 

"So, we're just going to sit around and do nothing while we wait for them to get back up?" Draco asked from the door. "Bellatrix isn't slowing down. We have to act now." 

"We will," Hermione said without turning around. "We just have to be more careful. Without a base, we don't have as much protection."

"You're mad if you think the six of us can take on the Death Eater's on our own," Ron said to her. 

"Hermione and I took them on three times already," said Draco. 

Harry's head shot up. "Three times in two weeks? What happened?"

Hermione shook her head, ignoring Harry's questions. "That was before they knew you switched sides. And it hardly counts-- there were more Muggles than Death Eaters." 

"We'll take care of logistics for now," Bill said. "Ron, Fleur, and I will go to Diagon Alley to get vials to store fresh memories and potion ingredients, just in case." 

"I'll go," Harry and Hermione said in unison. 

"No, you won't," said Draco, pushing off from the doorframe and bracing his hands on the kitchen table, across from Hermione. 

She recoiled. "Excuse me, _mum_ , but I don't need your permission."

"Diagon Alley is crawling with paranoid Muggles looking for your face. As soon as they see either of you, one of them will pull a gun on you again, or call a Death Eater." 

"A gun?" Harry's face contorted into a horrified expression. 

"I'll transfigure my face," Hermione said.

"It's too risky," Draco refused. 

"I don't appreciate you telling me what I can and can't do-"

"He's right," Ron said. 

Everyone turned to look at Ron; he was the last person each of them expected to defend Draco. "Bill and I are blood-traitors, but we're Purebloods. And since they didn't see us at the Order's headquarters in Bristol, they don't have proof we're working with them. It's best they think the three of us are still separated. It'll make us look like less of a threat." 

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out that we're not," Harry muttered. He appeared to be as disappointed as Hermione to be left behind. 

"But we just need to put enough doubt in their minds," Hermione said, using her words against herself. "And if they see the three of you with two people they've never seen before, they would suspect something is up." 

Harry sucked on his bottom lip. "Fine. We'll wait here."

Ron shrugged into his jacket, patting Hermione on top of her head. "We won't take long. Don't let Draco burn the house down."

"Oh, I'm coming with you," Draco said. 

Hermione and Harry shared a fleeting look, but Harry held up his arms and slid down from the counter. "You brought him here. You get to deal with him," he said as he exited the kitchen, followed by the Weasley's. 

Hermione stood up, still clutching her tea. "They're after you, too."

"I have to pick something up from Knockturn Alley."

"If you're disregarding all safety precautions, then I'm coming with you." 

"No one here cares if I live or die, so I'm going to go to Knockturn Alley and pick up something from Borgin and Burkes that might help us, and you're going to take a Dreamless Sleep Potion and get at least four more hours, because we all heard you screaming last night." 

Hermione looked out the window to avoid his eyes. "I care if you live." 

"Maybe, but you also said you were going to trust me." 

She dragged her gaze back to his. 

"Trust me when I say it's worth the risk," he said. 

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Draco had transfigured his hair to appear jet black. The illusion would only last so long, so as soon as he touched down on Charing Cross Road, he left the Weasley's outside of the Leaky Cauldron and went to Borgin and Burkes. Each storefront had a masked Death Eater guarding the entrance, and two uniformed Muggle police officers were patrolling the cobblestone walkway. Draco kept his head down as he made a beeline for Knockturn Alley. 

There were a few customers in Borgin and Burkes, but no more than usual. Draco didn't know what he was looking for, but he thought he would recognize a Malfoy family heirloom when he saw it. The bell overhead rang as he entered the store. He pulled his hood over his head and began perusing the shelves, making sure to keep his face pointed away from anyone else. 

Last summer, Draco overheard his parents discussing an object, something valuable. Lucius Malfoy stored many objects at Borgin and Burkes for safekeeping, but this particular object, Lucius intended on keeping hidden until after Harry Potter died. Unless Narcissa came to retrieve it, it would still be somewhere in the shop. 

Whatever it was, he hoped it was small. Jewelry was ideal. He had to be able to swipe it without being detected. He didn't have money on him, and if Mr. Borgin caught him, he'd be in deep trouble with the myriad Death Eaters and armed Muggles right outside. 

While Diagon Alley had become a tourist trap for Muggles, they stayed away from Knockturn Alley. In any other circumstances, Draco would have been grateful, but he wished there was a bigger crowd in Borgin and Burkes. The shop had a specific clientele and the owner was sure to recognize any outliers, especially one loitering. 

When Mr. Borgin was distracted by a customer, Draco snatched his opportunity to cast a Disillusionment Charm over himself. He wished he had Potter's Invisibility Cloak but wasn't quite ready to swallow his pride and ask Potter for a favor. He'd have to go through Granger.

The customer left and Draco continued to scan the shelves for anything he recognized: anything with the Malfoy family crest or a Dark Mark on it. Under the Disillusionment Charm, he had to be careful not to move too quickly. With each shelf and display he passed, his expectations deflated. If this object was important enough to hide it from the Ministry, it must have been of some significance to Voldemort, and therefore, to his most obsequious follower: Bellatrix. If he could get his hands on it, he could use it to lure her away from the Death Eaters.

Frustration rose in him as nothing caught his eye. It seemed like all he was looking at was Muggle artifacts: wedding rings, necklaces, baby-sized shoes. Draco's mouth ran dry as he realized how the objects came into Borgin's possession. The Death Eaters and Purebloods were moving faster than any of them thought. 

The bell over the door rang again. Draco pressed himself against the wall and stilled as a tall, bulky man in an oversized cloak passed by him. He couldn't catch sight of the man's face underneath his hood, but the set of his shoulders reminded Draco of his father, so he followed him to the backroom, where Borgin was waiting. 

Draco hesitated to stand flush against the door. What he wouldn't have given for one of the Weasley's childish Extendable Ears. He held his breath as he pressed his ear against the door and strained to hear what they were saying. 

Mr. Borgin's conspicuous voice was easy to understand, but the other man's raspy tone was harder to place. Draco leaned even more against the door. He managed to catch only a few words. "Without... objects... impossible... kill..." Draco pressed his lips together and furrowed his brow in concentration. He had heard that voice before. It must have been at one of Voldemort's meetings at the Manor. 

The sound of footsteps echoed and the floorboards creaked underfoot. Draco jumped out of the way of the door and caught one more word as the man pushed through the threshold. "Immortal." 

No longer caring about staying hidden, Draco hurried after the man. As the two of them exited the shop, Draco caught sight of his hidden face, right before the Death Eater disappeared into the crowd. Draco went the other direction. When he was far enough away from Knockturn Alley he prepared to apparate back to Hermione and Potter to give them the grim news. 

Antonin Dolohov was creating Horcruxes. 

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The entire time Draco was explaining what he saw in Knockturn Alley, Hermione's eyes didn't stray from Harry's face. With each word, the raven-haired boy's face drained of color until it was almost blue. 

Harry had literally died destroying Horcruxes. It was one thing for them to be fighting the same war; it was an entirely different, and infinitely more exhausting task, to start over from square one. 

Hermione's lungs deflated. "Harry," she said, turning to her best friend. She reached for his hand, but he brushed her off. She watched him slam the door open and shut and retreat to the shoreline. 

She groaned as she planted her elbows on the kitchen table and dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. When she looked up, Draco was still leaning against the counter. "At least we know now," she said. 

He nodded, keeping his eyes on the floor. 

"Thanks for telling us," she said. 

He shook his head. "Don't thank me."

Flaring her nostrils, she said, "Sorry, I just-"

His head shot up and he cocked an eyebrow at her. 

She let out a humorless laugh. "I know. I need to stop apologizing."

Draco jerked his head towards the door. "Aren't you going to run after him?"

Hermione looked out the window. Harry stood at the waterline, throwing rocks into the sea. "He just needs some time to cool down. Ron and I will talk to him tonight. By tomorrow, he'll have a plan." 

He snorted. "Right, because his plans always work out so well."

"Hey, if it weren't for Harry, Voldemort would still be alive. And you would still be a Death Eater." 

"Voldemort is dead _in spite of_ his recklessness, not because of it," Draco said. "And how many times did his plans put you and Weasley in harm's way? You'd be better off without him." 

A surge of protectiveness over Harry flooded Hermione's veins. "If I remember correctly, you were the one who was begging to be his friend first year. It could have been you camping with him all last year."

"Yeah, looks like I dodged a bullet with that one."

"If you come up with a plan, let me know. I'd be happy to hear you out." Hermione stood and pushed her chair in. "Until then, this is how we do things around here. If you want to join the Order, you better fall in line, Malfoy."

He kicked off from where he was standing and moved to block her exit. She took a step back, hating the fact that he seemed to tower over her. "The last thing I want to do is boost your ego, Granger," he said. "But if I'm going to join the Order, I'm following your lead. If you trust him enough to blindly follow him into hell, I will come with you. If I don't come back, you're the only one to blame, understand?"

Hermione crossed her arms and sucked in a deep breath, searching his eyes for any sign of animosity. "Fine."


	12. Chapter 12

_"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."_

—Albus Dumbledore

Draco and Harry didn't let Ron anywhere near their potions. It was perhaps the only thing they could agree on.

Bill and Fleur were out running errands, so the two boys started the process of brewing healing potions in the kitchen. Ron was sitting cross-legged on the counter, organizing vials. Hermione and Harry stood hunched over the table, with Draco sat between them.

"I'm pretty sure the flobberworm mucus goes next," Harry said, reaching for a small vial filled with a thick yellow liquid.

Hermione gripped his wrist. "No, the lionfish spines are first. I'm sure of it." Harry frowned. Before he had a chance to argue, she said, "Which one of us got an Outstanding on our Potions O.W.L?"

Harry snorted and surrendered the vial of mucus. Draco passed Harry a bottle of lionfish spines.

"Any news about the Order?" Draco asked tentatively. Apart from the occasionally sardonic remark to Hermione, he had been quiet for most of the afternoon.

"Not yet. We'll let you know," Potter's shoulders were still tense from Draco's revelation, but at least he was speaking in complete sentences now.

Draco was used to seeing Potter, Weasley, and Hermione agitated; Draco himself was the cause of much of their irritation during school. He had never witnessed the three of them just _being_. They were self-righteous Gryffindors, war heroes praised by the Wizarding World like gods, but before that, they were three teenagers. He'd never noticed the way Harry's features softened when Ron and Hermione were in his sight, like the only way he could relax was when he knew both of his best friends were safe. Or the way Hermione always glanced in Ron's direction to ensure he felt included in their conversation. He'd never seen the way Ron's jokes could diffuse any tension

For six years, Draco didn't understand why Potter would hang around the Mudblood and the blood-traitor. After the last year, and the last few weeks especially, he began to think Potter was the one holding Hermione back. At last, he understood their friendship: Harry Potter and Ron Weasley would not have lasted two seconds without Hermione Granger. But without Potter and Weasley, Hermione would have crumbled under the pressure. Potter had beaten death twice and evaded it countless times. He exemplified resilience and hope. During a war, resilience and hope were hard to come by.

Weasley slid down from his spot on the counter and scooped up an armful of vials. He set them down on the kitchen table, between the three cauldrons. "Square vials are for healing potions, round is for storing memories, and cylinders are for the Draught of Living Death."

Draco reached for a square vial and dipped it into his cauldron.

"Tired?" Potter asked softly. Draco looked up. Potter was looking at Hermione, who was stifling a yawn.

"I'm fine," she said and picked up another vial.

Draco frowned at the pale purple shadows under her eyes. "I told you to take a nap," he said, his voice lilting up at the end of his sentence, mocking her.

She didn't look at him. "Yes, well, you're not my mother so I don't have to listen to you."

Weasley plucked the vial from her hand and nudged her out of his way with his hip. "I'll take over." At her reluctant pout, he said, "I can handle pouring potions. Get some rest."

Hermione rolled her eyes and looked to Harry, evidently expecting him to side with her. Instead, he said, "Go to sleep. I'll wake you if we need anything." With a huff, she rolled her eyes and left the kitchen. Irritation pricked between Draco's shoulder blades.

The sound of rustling traveled through the halls as Hermione readied for bed. After a moment, it was replaced by soft snores.

The three boys fell into a tense silence, each hyperfocused on their tasks. Draco debated excusing himself. He always felt like an outsider in the cottage, but at least he and Hermione had an understanding. He didn't know where he stood with the others.

He sat in the silence and soaked in the tension until he couldn't take it anymore. "Remind me why we can't use this place as a base for the Order?"

He expected Potter to be the one to answer, but Weasley spoke. "Size for one thing," he said. "We don't all have a manor the size of a small town."

Draco stuck out his hand and seized his wand. _The Manor._ He had planned on returning to his family home, but those plans went out the window once he ran into Hermione in Hogwarts. It was a suicide mission. The last resort. But if there were more of them, maybe they stood a chance. If the Death Eaters were there, perhaps Dolohov was keeping a Horcrux at Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix might be there. There was a chance they would overhear some plans. At the very least, they would know where the Death Eaters were.

"No," Weasley said as if he had read Draco's mind.

Draco waved his wand above his cauldron again, trying to look as stupidly confident as Potter always seemed to. "Why not?"

"We'd be outnumbered, twenty to one!"

Potter had paused bottling up his potion and glanced between the two of them with a skeptical frown.

Draco looked at him. "You have an invisibility cloak, do you not?"

"Why?"

"How would you feel about having tea at my house tomorrow?"

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"This is a terrible idea," said Hermione. She, Harry, Draco, and Ron, were in the sitting room, nursing mugs of tea and coffee. She suspected Harry and Draco had spiked their drinks with Firewhiskey.

"You said you would hear me out if I came up with a plan," Draco said.

A crash of thunder caused Hermione to start. Rain pounded against the roof and rickety branches scratched at the windows. Ron was glancing out at the sea every few moments, ensuring that the waves weren't getting too high and threatening the foundation of his brother's home.

Harry, who was sitting next to her on the couch, placed a gentle hand on her knee. "You don't have to go. We, and Bill and Fleur, can handle it."

Draco seemed to think differently. "No. We can't afford to sideline anybody. Either we are all in or we are all out."

Hermione pulled her knees up to her chest. "Easiest decision I've ever made. We'll wait until the rest of the Order's here."

He narrowed his eyes at her and took a threatening step forward. "You know, for a Gryffindor and a war-hero, you're acting like a real fucking coward, right now, Granger."

Anger and humiliation deluged her. It drowned all the fight left in her draining heart and left her speechless.

Ron pulled away from the hall and placed a hand against Draco's chest, pushing him away from his friends. "The last time she was in that house, _your_ family carved her open like a piece of meat." He punctuated his point with a shove. Draco's shoulders hit the wall behind him. "You sat there and did nothing. Back the hell off."

Hermione swallowed the rage and embarrassment crawling up her throat and leaned back against the cushions. Draco pressed his lips together. In one fluid motion, he gripped Ron's wrist, pushed the redhead away, and stalked out of the room. He slammed the front door behind him as he surrendered to the storm outside.

Hermione pulled her blanket tighter over herself to hide her hands as she pinched at her stomach.

"I'll lock the door," said Harry, standing up. "He can sleep in the rain tonight."

"He has magic," Hermione reminded him but cracked a small smile. "A locked door won't do much."

"Of course! How could I forget? _Sectumsempra_ should do the trick just fine."

"No need," she said. "I'll talk to him." She dropped the blanket and followed Draco's path outside, squeezing Ron's shoulder as she passed him.

It didn't take long to find Draco. He was leaning against the back wall of the house, waving his hand. His forehead was wrinkled in concentration; clearly practicing wordless spells. Hermione slid next to him, keeping her back pressed against the wall, under the protection of the portico.

As their shoulders brushed, the tip of Draco's wand lit. He smirked in satisfaction. She leaned forward, sucked on her lips, and closed her eyes. _Nox_ , she thought. When she opened her eyes, his wand was extinguished and Draco was scowling at her.

"Show-off," he muttered. She bit back a smile as she bowed her head. She felt his shoulders shake once with a silent laugh next to her.

"I was rude to you inside," he said. She raised an eyebrow, before realizing that was the closest thing to an apology that he would offer.

"You were."

He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at her. She stared straight ahead at the rain falling in sheets around them.

"It's a good idea," he said. "You know it is."

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She felt his gaze burning into the side of her face. Reaching up, she untucked her hair from behind her ears and let it fall like a curtain between them.

"It's reckless," she finally said.

"I guess all the Gryffindor in this house is rubbing off on me."

She knew he meant it as a snarky reply, but she realized that some part of him really was trying to adapt to the rest of them. "We don't need another Gryffindor," she argued. "Draco, I know you're scared, but-."

"I'm not."

She turned to face him, leaning her shoulder against the wood. "Slytherin's defining characteristic is ambition, yeah? Fear of failure, fear of rejection, that's what drives you. You don't have to fight it; it's effective. If Bellatrix and Voldemort weren't so afraid of death and being powerless, they wouldn't be where they are. Fear and ambition are inseparable."

"So are fear and bravery."

"Exactly. I'm bloody terrified at the idea of going back there. Fear drives you, but it protects me. The line between being brave and being suicidal disappears completely without fear."

She held his gaze. His grey eyes, soft and violent, held a paper-thin promise. "I won't let them hurt you this time."

The corners of her lips tugged up and her cheeks warmed. "Careful, Malfoy. I might start to think you actually care about me."


	13. Chapter 13

_"It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more."_

— Albus Dumbledore

By the time the six of them had apparated to Malfoy Manor, it had stopped raining. Somehow, the mansion looked even more menacing in the sunshine, with the stark contrast of the blue sky and the dark towers of the mansion. The humid air smelled too sickly-sweet, like rotting fruit. Hermione stepped into the shadow of the house and felt a chill inch up her spine. The dirt path had grown soggy from the downpour and her feet sank into the mud. A frozen terror lodged itself in her throat, and she couldn't seem to remember why she agreed to come with them.

Her only solace was that, by the look of it, none of her companions seemed to be faring much better. Even Draco, whose skin was milky white even in the peak of summer, looked more translucent than usual. 

Harry held out the Invisibility Cloak. "It'll only be big enough for two of us." The group exchanged sideways glances, each wanting to have the shield of the Cloak, but not willing to admit it. Draco's adam's apple bobbed; his lips were practically trembling at the sight of it. Harry was gripping the Cloak with clenched fingers, looking like giving it up would be the most difficult thing he'd done that summer so far. 

"You should take it, Harry," Hermione finally spoke up. 

At the same time, Ron said, "Draco should have it." Hermione's eyes shot to him in surprise.

Harry and Draco looked at each other. Draco recoiled as they made eye contact. 

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Out of all of us, if either of you two gets caught, you'll likely get tortured the worst." 

Some of the color had returned to Draco's face and Harry's fingers relaxed around the thin fabric, although they both looked disgusted at the prospect of having to be in such close proximity with the other. Hermione soon realized that was precisely why Ron volunteered Draco: so Harry could keep an eye on him. 

"They'll make an example out of us," Draco said, "But they'll _Avada_ you right on the spot."

Hermione shrugged. "Healthy dose of fear to keep me on my toes." 

Harry moved to stand next to Draco. "Draco and I will go to the dining room, assuming that's where any Death Eaters will be. Bill and Fleur, go to the cellars to see if they're keeping prisoners. Ron and Hermione will search the library and bedrooms for anything that looks like it might be a Horcrux." 

Hermione kept her eyes glued to the Manor looming over them, only half-listening to Draco explain the layout of the house. 

Ron touched her elbow. "It's not too late to back out. We can call the whole thing off."

Hermione inhaled. She exhaled all her fear. "No. Let's get this over with." 

Draco and Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak over themselves. The rest of them cast Disillusionment Charms. Hermione felt fingers intertwine with hers. She squeezed them. _Ron._

The door creaked open ahead of her. She knew Draco and Harry opened it but she still found it disquieting. 

Hermione forced her breathing to settle as she and Ron entered the manor. Despite her best efforts, her breath hitched when she heard faint voices coming from the dining room. The soft shuffle of feet to her right told her Draco and Harry were heading in that direction. 

"We will meet you back here soon," Fleur's soft voice said in her ear. Hermione nodded, even though no one could see her. 

All the curtains in the house seemed to be drawn, leaving the hallways dim and dreary. She pulled Ron, following Harry and Draco. As they passed the dining room, she heard the low, unmistakable drawl of Snape. "I have it on good authority that Potter was seen in Northern Ireland the other day." 

Hermione rolled her eyes. Snape was of more use to the Order at their base at this point. Now that Dumbledore and Voldemort were both gone, it was pointless for him to continue playing both sides. If anything, he should have killed Dolohov before he had a chance to create any Horcruxes. 

She pondered Dolohov's methods and motivations as they climbed the stairs. She doubted Dolohov would have started creating Horcruxes before Voldemort had died; no loyal Death Eater would be so bold. She wasn't sure exactly how Horcruxes were made, but Harry made it sound like it was a long and difficult process. He likely wouldn't have been able to make more than one in the past few weeks. Perhaps McGonagall knew; Hermione would be sure to ask when they reunited. 

Ron and Hermione stayed close to the wall as they navigated the second floor of Malfoy Manor, in case a rogue wizard was roaming the halls and caught them. The Disillusionment Charm was helpful, but not perfect. If they lost concentration, it would be easy to see right through it. 

"Here," Ron breathed, steering them between an open pair of heavy, iron doors. "Remind me what we're looking for?" 

"Anything that looks particularly expensive or ancient. It seems unlikely that the Horcrux would be here, but Draco thinks if we can find one of Narcissa's heirlooms, we can lure Bellatrix away. Death Eater's are oddly sentimental." She ran her fingers over a glass case at the end of a long line of bookshelves. Encased inside were rows of letters from Malfoy's; some dated from over 600 years ago. Hermione wished she had more time and fewer pressing matters; to examine Pureblood history from a primary source-- it was a rare opportunity. 

Unfortunately, she didn't think Bellatrix had the same proclivity towards academia, and thus, wouldn't be bothered by a letter, so she moved on. The next shelf mostly consisted of Draco's quidditch participation trophies but also included several plaques celebrating Lucius' accomplishments at work. Below that was a shelf of picture frames. In the center was a younger Lucius and Narcissa at their wedding. Hermione hardly recognized Mrs. Malfoy, as the witch hadn't yet changed her hair color to match the rest of her husband's family. Behind that was a picture of Draco, only three or four years old, playing with a Crup, laughing in the moving photo. Hermione couldn't help the smile that tore at her lips. In the seven years she'd known him, she could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen him smile. And even then, most of those times were at her expense. 

"D'ya reckon an engagement ring is valuable enough?"

She looked up in surprise, having almost forgotten why they were there in the first place. Hermione followed Ron's voice to another glass case, which held an impressive assortment of jewelry. "Wow." Diamonds of all shapes, sizes, and colors sat atop purple velvet. Underneath each ring was a small plaque with a name. Hermione scanned the labels, wracking her brain to recall any information about the Malfoy family tree from History of Magic. "That one," she pointed to Isolda Black's ring. "That's the oldest, I think." It was certainly the most dated. The diamond barely shone through all the dust. 

The ring seemed to float in the air for a moment as Ron picked it up and pocketed it. 

"Let's go see if Bill and Fleur need help," Ron said. Hermione stayed put, fascinated by the different jewelry; the way the fashions changed. Some reflected mainstream Muggle fashion, and others looked unlike anything Hermione had ever seen. At the end of the case, nearly invisible under the wooden rim, was a ring of black beads. Hermione picked it up, rolling one in her fingers. A rosary. Strange. She had never met a religious wizard. Hermione herself had never been religious, but she knew enough about Christianity to know that the Malfoy family didn't follow its principles. 

Out of curiosity more than anything, she pulled the necklace over her head and returned to the door. She felt her shoulder brush against Ron's as they descended the stairs. 

Suddenly, a house-elf appeared at the base of the steps. Hermione let out a small shriek as it scampered up the stairs. She pressed herself against the wall and sucked her stomach in as much as she could. 

"Bad, Zippy," the house-elf cried, hitting its head on each step as it climbed. "Bad!" 

Hermione knawed at her bottom lip. When the elf reached the stop, it let out a melodramatic wail before disappearing around the corner. She let out a sigh of relief when it was out of sight. _That was close_ , she thought. 

As she took another step, the wooden floor creaked beneath her feet. Her eyes widened and she looked at Ron, clenching her fists. In her momentary panic, the Disillusionment Charm began to slip from her face. 

"Hermione," Ron hissed in warning, but it was too late. 

"What's this?" 

Hermione struggled to raise her wand at Bellatrix. The crazed look in her eyes froze the blood in Hermione's veins. "St-stupefy!" she said, but her wand was shaking. The spell was too weak. Bellatrix blocked it easily. 

Ron began to speak next to her, but Bellatrix was faster. " _Crucio!_ "

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A month ago, if Draco had been asked what he would be doing after completing his final year at Hogwarts, spooning Harry Potter under an Invisibility Cloak in his childhood home would not have even crossed his mind as an answer. 

And yet, there he was, crouched behind Potter, squinting through the gossamer threads of the invisible fabric. The two of them had been watching the occupants of Malfoy Manor, which consisted of Draco's mother, Bellatrix, Snape, Yaxley, and a man and woman Draco didn't recognize, for twenty minutes. Bellatrix had spent at least fifteen of those minutes raving about how insulting it was to see Muggles in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. No one else seemed able to get a word in edgewise. Yaxley sat at the head of the table, on the edge of his seat, hanging onto Bellatrix's every word. Narcissa and Snape exchanged exasperated glances. Other than the occasional nod of affirmation, the man and woman remained silent, keeping their eyes fixed on the floor. 

Not one word of consequence was uttered. 

Seeing Narcissa for the first time in weeks was harder than Draco expected. Her eyes had sunken in and her cheeks had hallowed out. Her greying hair, usually dyed regularly, was showing at the roots. Guilt blossomed in his chest, anchoring his knees to the floor. He had been so wrapped in his quest for survival and revenge, he'd forgotten about who he left behind. 

There was no love lost for Draco when Lucius died, but Narcissa had lost her husband and her son not long after. Still, Draco was determined to put as much distance between himself and his father's legacy as possible, and as long as Narcissa continued to side with Bellatrix, Draco wanted no association with her. 

His legs were beginning to cramp. He let out a sigh, to which Potter responded with a sharp jab to the ribs. Draco sucked in a breath and swallowed a groan. 

"What was that?" Yaxley asked. Draco felt Potter's shoulders tighten. He pulled the Cloak closer to them as if it would make them _more_ invisible. 

"What was what?" Snape asked, lazily looking towards the other Death Eater. Yaxley stood. 

"There was a noise in the hallway. The stairs creaked."

Draco relaxed his grip on the Cloak. _He was safe._

Potter tensed even more. _The others._

"The house-elf, probably," said Snape, with a dismissive wave of his wand. 

Bellatrix cocked her head and pulled her wand out from the bodice of her dress, between her breasts. 

Draco almost tripped over his own feet. He struggled to stand as Harry shot forward, pulling the Cloak with him. Draco put a restraining hand on Potter's shoulder, keeping them out of the way of Snape and Yaxley. It was probably nothing. If Hermione were in trouble, she would be bright enough to apparate back to the cottage. He hadn't heard the deafening _crack._ Then he frowned. If they were keeping prisoners, perhaps they had put up apparition wards. 

" _Crucio!_ " he heard Bellatrix shout from the hallway. 

Suddenly, he was pushing Potter to move faster without regard for his mother and old professor. 

" _Avada Kedavra_ ," he pulled the Cloak off of his shoulders and pointed his wand at his aunt. Yaxley, the bloody idiot, jumped in front of Bellatrix, taking the spell and falling to the floor in a lifeless heap. 

" _Expelliarmus,_ " Snape said and Draco's wand flew from his hand. Draco regretted taking any action. The Gryffindor really _was_ rubbing off on him. 

With a wicked smirk, Bellatrix looked over her shoulder at Draco. "I'll deal with _you_ in a minute." Without breaking eye contact, she said, in an even tone, " _Crucio._ "

Hermione let out another shriek. Her elbows pressed into the wood floor as her back arched. The man from the dining room moved and placed an arresting hand around Draco's upper arm. He struggled for a moment, but soon decided it was futile. 

A flicker of movement drew Draco's attention away from Hermione. Barely visible under his Disillusionment Charm was Ron, creeping down the stairs one by one. 

_Move faster_ , Draco thought. Without his wand, he was useless. He refused to beg for Hermione's life; it would only make them kill her faster. _Maybe that would be a mercy,_ he thought, remembering what she had said outside the Manor. 

He immediately dismissed the thought. She was incapacitated; her vote no longer counted. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mother. A manicured hand demurely covered her mouth. Chancing a glance back behind him at his wand, he saw it had disappeared. Tucking an arm behind his back, he held his hand open and waited for Potter to deposit it. 

With a cackle, Bellatrix threw her head back. Hermione's tortured screams faded into soft whimpers. Draco ground his teeth as Bellatrix turned to Snape. "Prove your loyalty to me, Severus." She pointed at him with his wand, and then jabbed it in Hermione's direction. "You torture her." 

"Please!" Hermione cried out. "Just kill me, already!" Her voice rang in Draco's ears as he realized she was talking to him and the thin threads holding the fabric of his sanity together snapped. 

_Hurry the fuck up._

"Once you tell us where Harry Potter and the Order are," Bellatrix said. She crouched down next to Hermione and pulled a knife out of her sleeve and jerked up Hermione's left sleeve, exposing the Mudblood scar. "I'm quite fond of this one." She brought the knife up to Hermione's jaw. "Pity you can hide it so easily, though. If I put one here," she punctuated her proposal with a sharp, but shallow stab at Hermione's neck, under her ear, "everyone will know what you are." She drew a line down to her shoulder. Hermione screamed through clenched teeth. Draco elbowed once again the man, but he didn't budge. His chest rose and fell. Why were Potter and Weasley taking so damn long? "Where is Harry Potter?"

Hermione shook her head, blinking rapidly. 

"Severus!" Bellatrix cried, pulling the knife away. 

Snape, without hesitation, pointed his wand at Hermione. " _Crucio._ "

Hermione rolled over onto her side and curled her knees to her chest, pressing her hands against her head. Draco opened and closed his hand three times, indicating to Harry to give him his wand. Bellatrix stepped in front of her nephew. "Why are you here with the Mudblood, Draco?" she asked. 

Draco clenched his jaw. Finally, he felt the smooth, familiar wood of his wand press into his palm. Bellatrix held the knife in front of her face. With a slow, deliberate tongue, she licked Hermione's blood from the blade. Draco recoiled, wrapping his fingers around the wand. Bellatrix then slid the flat slide of the knife down Draco's face. 

"Crucio!" He whipped his arm and held the wand to Bellatrix's throat. His aunt fell to the ground in pain. Potter and Weasley followed his lead, casting the body-bind curse and stunning spells on the remaining people in the room, excluding Narcissa. 

Draco avoided his mother's eyes as he strode towards Hermione. Ron helped her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Potter had discarded the Cloak and rushed to help his best friends. 

"The wards are down," Narcissa said with a sad smile. "Good luck."

Draco finally met her eyes. He nodded his thanks before gripping Harry's shoulder. Harry took a deep breath in and brought the four of them back to Shell Cottage. 


	14. Chapter 14

_"Dumbledore says people find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right."_

— Hermione Granger

Hermione collapsed to her hands and knees on the beach and vomited into the sand. Harry knelt beside her and moved her hair out of the way. Sweat plastered her hair to her temples. Between her retches, she gulped in breaths of the salty sea air. 

"Where are Bill and Fleur?" Weasley asked. As if on cue, his brother and sister-in-law appeared in the tall grass right behind Draco. "Any prisoners?" he asked them. 

Bill shook his head, his lips set in a grim line. "No living ones." 

Potter sighed and ran a comforting hand down Hermione's spine. When she finished emptying her stomach, she rolled onto her side and lay her head on Harry's lap. 

Potter moved his arms underneath her back and picked her up. "Let's get you inside and cleaned up." 

Hermione groaned as Harry maneuvered them forward. "Grab the door," he ordered Ron softly as he slipped an arm under her knees and lifted her, cradling her to his chest. He turned to Draco. "Do you have dittany? And healing potion?" 

Draco nodded, grateful for an excuse to keep busy, rather than wallow in his anger and guilt. His eyes lingered on her face before he forced himself to turn away. Her features contorted into a heinous expression of pain.

It was her own damn fault. If only she had watched her step. If only Potter and Weasley had reacted quicker. 

If only Draco hadn't convinced her to go. If only he hadn't promised to protect her. He should've known he couldn't have kept that promise. 

He jogged up the stairs to the bedroom he was occupying and searched through the rows of vials on the windowsill. Confusing Concoction, Skele-gro, Pepperup, Veritaserum. 

Dittany. He grabbed three vials, along with his last vial of Wiggenweld potion, and returned to the sitting room, where Hermione was laying on the couch. He passed the vials to Fleur, who proceeded to apply the Dittany to the vertical gash on Hermione's neck. The younger Weasley stood over the two women, craning his neck to watch the wound heal. Potter sat in the armchair opposite his friends, leaning his elbows on his knees. Draco retreated to the outskirts of the room. He pressed his hands into the small of his back and leaned back against the wall. 

"Drink this," Fleur said, pressing the vial of Wiggenweld to Hermione's lips.

Hermione shook her head and turned her neck so her face was hidden by the pillows. 

"Hermione," Harry leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his face. "You have to drink it if you want to get well." 

Hermione's shoulder shook with a violent sob before she rolled back onto her side and let out another cry of pain. "Hurts..."

Ron took the vial from Fleur and tried again to get Hermione to drink it. Harry stood and looked at Draco. "Talk to her?"

Draco released his neck and let his head hit the wall. "Why me?" 

Harry shrugged. "For some reason, she listens to you." It looked like it pained Potter to admit this, and Draco couldn't deny he found a sense of sick satisfaction in that. "And I know you don't want to see her like this any more than we do." 

Draco pushed off from the wall, keeping his arms behind his back as he moved to approach Hermione. 

Ron scoffed. "Why's he still here? He's the reason she's all cut up in the first place." 

"Me?" Draco asked. "You were right next to her and did nothing while she was being _tortured_." 

Ron let out a dark chuckle. "Her blood is literally smeared on your face." Instinctively, Draco touched his fingers to his face. They came back stained scarlet. 

"Stop... shouting," Hermione panted from the couch. Her eyes were squeezed shut. 

Draco snatched the vial out of Ron's hand and sat on the coffee table across from Hermione. "Only if you drink this." 

She held it up to the light and squinted at the purple liquid. 

Draco ran an impatient hand through his hair. "It hasn't been tampered with. I made it myself. And I also got an Outstanding on my Potions O.W.L. Drink it, Granger." 

She uncapped it and brought it to her lips with a shaky hand. A couple of drops spilled on her chin, but she downed the potion with a visible swallow. Draco took the empty glass from her hand as she fell back against the pillow, drained from the small effort. He wiped the drop from her chin with his thumb and pulled out his wand. She winced when he touched the tip of it to the cut on her neck. " _Vulnera sanentur,_ " he muttered, tracing the length of the mark. 

By the time he finished the spell, Hermione's breathing evened out. "Thank you," she said, her voice raspy. Her lips pulled into a thin smile. 

Draco shook his head and ground his teeth. "Don't thank me." 

Her eyes fluttered shut. 

"Don't let 'er sleep yet," Fleur said, rushing back into the room with a glass of water. Hermione struggled to one elbow as Fleur handed her the glass. Once again, her hand shook as she struggled to hold it to her face. Draco wrapped his pale fingers around hers and helped her lift it. When she finished, Draco took the glass and set it on the table. 

"May I sleep _now_?" she asked Fleur. 

Fleur nodded, satisfied. Hermione shifted her hips as she found a comfortable position. She fell asleep almost immediately. Draco pulled her fleece blanket up to her chin and settled into the armchair, where he remained for the rest of the night. 

For the first time in weeks, Hermione didn't wake up screaming in the middle of the night. 

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She opened her eyes to the smell of hot coffee and the pleasant sound of birds chirping outside. Through the open door to the kitchen, she could see Bill, Fleur, and Draco sipping their coffee and tea and reading the Daily Prophet. A small frown was on Draco's face as he mouthed the words he was reading. She groaned as she pushed herself up to a sitting position. 

"Hey," said Ron, appearing at the top of the stairs. He bounded down them and sat next to her on the couch. He helped her sit up and wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "Relax."

She was grateful for the help, but couldn't help the irritation she felt. If Harry or Ron had been the one hurt, they wouldn't have been so overbearing. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked her. Upon seeing that Hermione had woken up, Draco joined them. 

"Like I was hit by a truck." Her cheeks flushed as she looked at Draco. "And really stupid. I'm so sorry." 

Draco's eyebrows bunched together. "Why?" 

Hermione shrugged, playing with the loose threads on her blanket. "For screwing up your mission." 

"You didn't," Ron said. 

"I did. And I put all of you at risk, and I'm..." Her fingers reached up to her neck to trace the cut, which had sealed. By that night, it would fade to a scar. 

"Don't say it," said Draco, as if able to sense where her sentence was going. 

"I'm glad it was me, but if they had the opportunity, they would have killed any of you and it would have been my fault." She shook her head. "I just... froze." 

"You weren't ready," Ron said, rubbing his hand in comforting circles across her back. "We shouldn't have asked you to go back after last time. But you're going to be fine. You were so strong, Hermione." 

She rested her head on Ron's shoulder. "I thought this would be over when Harry killed him." 

They sat in the silence, listening to Fleur and Bill's quiet chatter from the kitchen until Harry burst through the front door. His forehead was damp with sweat and his breathing was heavy, like he was returning from a run. 

"Hermione! How are you feeling?" 

"Sore," she said. He walked around to the back of the couch and made to wrap his arms around her. She shoved him away in a playful protest. "Shower before hugs, please!" 

Harry scoffed but obeyed and trudged up the stairs. 

"Can I get you anything?" Ron offered. 

"Some tea would be wonderful," Hermione said. 

Ron wiped his hands on his jeans and retreated to the kitchen. 

Draco stood awkwardly for a moment before taking a seat opposite Hermione. She pulled her legs onto the couch and sat cross-legged, staring at her bare toes in intense concentration. 

"I don't blame you at all," Draco said, shattering the silence. "You'll be ready next time, and we'll have more time to prepare."

Hermione nodded, but she wasn't convinced. What if she was never ready? How many times would she have to fail before Harry benched her and continued the search for the Horcruxes without her? 

She picked at her cuticles as she contemplated her next question. It didn't really matter why Draco had risked himself to save her, but she was curious. She knew he wouldn't accept her thanks either way, so she supposed she had nothing to lose. "Why didn't you stay under the Cloak?" 

Draco shrugged. "It was getting hard to breathe. Potter doesn't smell that good." 

Hermione shook her head, discontent with his evasive sarcasm. "You know what I mean. You had plenty of time to kill her before I gave myself away." 

"What do you want me to say?" His tone was tempered. "If it were me, you would have done the same thing."

Hermione would have, but she was a Gryffindor. Sacrifice and chivalry were second-nature to her. 

"But you didn't have to-"

"You're my friend, Granger, okay?" 

"Oh." Hermione's lips parted slightly in surprise. "Yeah, I mean, I think-"

Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Chill out, I'm not proposing or anything."

Her head shot up as she recalled the ring Ron had found. Maybe their mission hadn't been a complete failure. She patted the cushions, searching for her wand, but quickly grew impatient; she was too weak for magic, anyway. "Can you pass me that bag?" She pointed to her beaded bag that sat atop the pile of shoes next to the front door. With a wave of his wand, Draco summoned the bag and handed it to Hermione. She plunged her hand inside and rummaged around for the engagement ring. 

When her fingers found it, she pulled it out and gave it to Draco. "It belonged to Isolda Black way back in the fourteenth century," she said. Draco held the diamond up to his face. "It's an old, valuable Black family heirloom. Do you think Bellatrix will come for it?" 

Draco smirked and tucked the ring in his pocket. "Absolutely. And we'll be waiting for her." 

Hermione squared her shoulders and felt a weight release from her chest. It was a small contribution, but a contribution nonetheless. 

"Well done, Granger." 

She settled back into the couch. Satisfaction swelled in her. Ron returned from the kitchen with a steaming cup of breakfast tea. Her hands still shook as she accepted it, but her grip was much stronger than yesterday. Harry emerged from the bathroom upstairs and descended the stairs, two at a time, shaking out his damp hair. 

"Have you heard from Ginny about the Order yet?" she asked Ron, who shook his head. 

Hermione's face fell. Her hope was wearing thinner. She didn't want to give away their location in case their owl was intercepted, but she had half a mind to track the rest of her friends down and drag them Shell Cottage herself. "I think I'll go insane if I have to sit here for another hour with nothing to do but worry about them." 

"Fancy a walk on the beach?" Harry asked. 

"Are you offering?" she asked, gesturing to her bedridden body. Her arms were still littered with bruises and her legs ached. Some fresh air and a stretch would do her good, but she wasn't in any shape to hold up her body weight for a sustained period of time. 

"I thought Ron could take you. Draco and I have something to discuss."

Draco's features hardened and Hermione and Ron exchanged dubious glances. Neither of them liked the idea of being left out of the conversation. "About what?" Hermione asked. 

A wicked smirk teased Harry's lips. "I want to break into the Ministry." 


	15. Chapter 15

_"We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided."_

— Albus Dumbledore

One way or another, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were going to be the death of Hermione. 

Ginny finally sent them an owl with useful information. Or, rather, she had sent Harry an owl with confidential information, which Harry immediately shared with the rest of the house. 

The Order was scattered across England, but Ginny had overheard Molly say that Kingsley, George, Neville, and Professor McGonagall were in London that afternoon. They were going to speak with the Muggle Prime Minister and find out just how much control the Minister of Magic had over him. Hermione quickly deduced that Bill, who had left just minutes earlier claiming he had errands to run, had gone to meet them. He hadn't told them the truth because he knew that would pull something precisely like this. 

Harry tried to assure her the mission would be strictly recon. He and Draco would sneak in using Polyjuice Potion, then camp out inside the Minister's office and attempt to intercept any written communications to use as proof to recruit foreign wizards or Muggles for the Order. Any verbal plans made between Pius Thicknesse and other Death Eaters in the ministry couldn't be used to convince others, but it could provide useful intel to the Order. They would bring the charmed galleons to communicate with Hermione and Ron. Harry seemed to think the operation was low-risk, but if it came down to it, he had a stash of Dungbombs and Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder on hand to aid their escape. 

Ron was furious to be left out of the action, and Hermione wasn't too thrilled either. 

"We need someone on the outside to call in backup in case anything goes wrong," Harry reasoned. "Hermione isn't any shape to do much, so it'll be up to you." 

"Leave the ferret behind!"

Draco rolled his eyes at the nickname. "If something goes wrong and I go running to Kingsley Shacklebolt and tell him that Harry Potter is in trouble he'll think I'm leading him into a trap." 

Ron's face flushed red to match his hair. 

"Let me come," Hermione said. 

"No," said Harry. 

Draco laughed, then coughed to cover it up. Hermione glared at him. "You'd be a liability," Draco said. Hermione could tell he was trying to sympathetic, but Hermione flinched as if she'd been slapped. 

"Ouch," she said. She knew she fucked up at the Manor; she didn't need him to remind her. 

"You're injured, kid," he said, exasperated. "You'll only slow us down." 

_I'm older than you_ , she thought.

She turned to Harry. "Give me two more healing potions; three max. I'll be good to go in an hour." 

"Don't they have side effects?"

She ignored him and looked at Ron. "You'll have to stay here, so Bill doesn't think we've been kidnapped," she said, her voice and eyes filled to the brim with an apology. Ron sighed and threw himself onto the couch. Hermione stood. "Potions?"

With a wave of his wand, Harry summoned two vials of healing potion and handing them to Hermione reluctantly. 

"Wait." Draco plucked the vial from her hand before she could uncap it. "You are going to wait outside the Ministry."

"Fine."

"And you are going to stay out of sight of the entrance."

"Yes."

"And you are going to keep the Disillusionment Charm up the entire time we are there."

"I said yes, give it back." She reached for the potion. He pulled it further away from her. 

"And you will not come in after us under any circumstances."

"Well, unless you guys get hurt and signal me with the galleon."

Draco frowned. "No. If we signal you, you will go to Downing Street and get Shacklebolt and McGonagall, and then you will come right back here and wait for us." 

She looked to Harry, whose eyebrows were raised in expectation. 

"You can't ask me to sit back if both of you are at risk." 

Draco pulled out his wand. "Those are the terms, otherwise I'll put the Body Bind Curse on you until we get back."

Hermione scoffed but agreed. She might have been imagining it, but the potion tasted more bitter than usual as it slid down her throat. 

She was used to feeling like the out one out, being the only girl in their tight-knit group. Naturally, Ron and Harry had always considered each other to be their best friends, as they should have. They were friends first, after all. Still, it was tiresome. But when she and Harry were out hunting Horcruxes, fighting to save the world, she felt fully appreciated and needed. For the first time, she was Harry's equal. 

And just as quickly, she had been replaced by Draco. 

It was irrational. She was the one who brought him here, who'd insisted he join her. And she truly was glad that her best friend and her newest friend were getting along. But she absolutely despised that they were teaming up against her. 

She downed the last drop of the second healing potion and grabbed her beaded bag along with her wand. She reached for Harry's hand as the three of them prepared to apparate to Central London. 

With one last look at Ron's sullen expression, she realized that this was probably how he had felt for the entirety of the last year. 

The warmth of the Burrow disappeared as she, Harry, and Draco moved through time and space. When they landed, she was enveloped in the scent of gasoline and the thick, humid London air. They landed in a narrow alley overlooking the Thames, away from prying eyes. 

Draco led them down Whitehall and towards the Ministry of Magic. Hermione brought up the rear, behind Harry, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds to ensure no one was following them. 

"What are the odds they've beefed up security in the past few months?" Hermione asked. 

"Slim to none," Harry said, but his voice inflected upwards at the end as if he were asking a question. They both knew that was wishful thinking. 

It was late in the morning and the sun was high and warm. The early rush hour had ended, and they still had an hour or two before employees of the surrounding Muggle government buildings began to leave for their lunch breaks. The vast majority of people on the streets were tourists. Guilt ballooned in Hermione's chest as she saw Draco elbow Harry in the ribs. He nodded towards a pair of unsuspecting, well-dressed Americans debating over a map. 

Harry whistled. "You chaps lost?" 

Hermione shoved her hands in her pockets and tried to look nonchalant as the men approached. Harry listened as they explained where they were trying to go, while Draco drew his wand and performed the Body Bind Curse, rendering the Muggles defenseless. 

She sighed in displeasure as the two boys cast protective enchantments around themselves to prevent from being seen. 

" _Mobilicorpus_ ," Draco said, pulling the unconscious bodies into the air. 

"Here," said Harry, pulling at a locked service door. " _Alohamora._ " He pulled the door open and gestured for Draco to enter. "Ladies first."

Draco rolled his eyes but he guided the bodies through the door before following. Hermione frowned at Harry. "You know, your tone implies that you think it's an insult to be called a lady, and I really don't appreciate the misogynistic implicat-"

"Yeah, not really the time, Hermione," Harry said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her into the building. 

Draco set the bodies down. Then, he and Harry plucked hairs from each of the Muggles' heads and changed into their clothes. Draco pulled out two vials of Polyjuice, handed one to Harry, and threw it back like a shot of Firewhisky. 

Once Harry and Draco were unrecognizable, donning new slacks and blazers, Harry turned to Hermione. "Keep the protective charms up and stay hidden," he said. "You have your galleon?"

She deftly flicked the small gold coin up in the air and caught it to prove it. He nodded in approval. "We'll be back soon. Stay safe." 

She pocketed the coin. "You too." She smiled at her best friend and then turned to Draco. Her eyes lingered on his for a moment longer than necessary, searching for any sign of the Draco she had come to know underneath the Muggle disguise. He coughed and ducked his head. Her eyes widened and she looked back to Harry. "I'll be here if you need me." 

She poked her head out of the door and watched them retreat down the street, to the employee's entrance. After their figures disappeared into the crowd, lost to the sea of people, she leaned back against the brick wall behind her and slid to the concrete. Now all she could do was wait and hope she didn't drown in her worry. 

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The key was acting as he belonged. If he held his head up high and walked with a purpose, no one would question why these two men, who had never been seen at the Ministry before, were there. 

At least, that's what he hoped. 

The line to the bathroom moved quickly. He had taken this entrance once before, with his father when he was fourteen to meet Cornelius Fudge. Regardless, he still felt ridiculous as he stepped into the toilet and flushed himself down. Channeling every ounce of arrogance, he stepped out of the Floo Network and fell into step beside Harry. The atrium was buzzing with activity, so the two of them were able to slip undetected through security. 

Once past the main security desk, Draco struck up a conversation with Harry, asking if he had been able to get the stray nifflers in his garden under control. Confusion colored Harry's face for a moment before he caught on. They couldn't allow any outsiders to interrupt or question their presence. 

Harry wasn't as familiar with the layout of the Ministry, so Draco led the way to his office on the first floor. When the crowd thinned and they were no longer in danger of bumping into passersby, they escaped into a nearby bathroom and pulled the Invisibility Cloak over their heads. 

Some part of Draco, _a very small part,_ wished Hermione were the one huddled beneath the Cloak with him. A bigger part of him was glad she was across the street, safe, and unable to bother him. At least Potter didn't try to make small talk with him. 

They pushed themselves against the wall across from the Pius Thicknesse's office. While they waited for the Minister to exit, Draco reached his hand into his pocket and fingered the gold galleon. He was antsy, after what happened the last time he and Potter were in this position. 

They didn't have to wait long. Less than fifteen minutes later, a young, blonde woman slid a note underneath his door. Draco recognized the witch from Hogwarts, but couldn't remember her name. She must have been a few years older than them. 

She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall until then Thicknesse came out and shut the door behind him. She immediately grabbed at his tie and pulled him closer to her. He glanced around, and when he was sure no one was watching, pressed his lips to hers and wrapped his fingers in her hair. Draco's eyebrows pinched together. Pius Thicknesse was having an illicit affair with this woman- who was barely of age- and was more willing to risk his reputation by being seen with her than invite her into his office. Draco leaned forward with anticipation. _What was the Minister hiding in his office?_

With a giggle, she pulled on his hand and they strode down the hallway, where the Minister had a private Floo. 

When Harry killed Voldemort, the Imperius Curse would have worn off of the Minister, so he was either acting of his own volition or another Death Eater had him under their control. 

After the giggles had faded in the distance, Draco and Harry crept over to the door. Crouching down, Draco whispered, " _Alohamora._ " He pulled at the door. It didn't open. 

Harry nudged him out of the way. " _Alohamora Duo_ ," Harry said. Draco rolled his eyes, but sure enough, the lock clicked, and the pair was able to slip inside. 

Harry pulled the blinds down in front of the window on the door before pulling the Invisibility Cloak off of their shoulders. Draco inhaled a breath of fresh air and then began shuffling through the Minister's mail. Most of it was predictable: office memos, requests for meetings, grocery lists. Next to him, Harry was rifling through desk drawers. The Minister was a disorganized man. His filing system needed some updating. Hermione would have had a stroke if she'd seen this place. 

Draco shook his head and tried to get her out of his mind like he was shaking water from his ear after he'd been swimming. 

None of the memos Draco was thumbing through were signed by known Death Eaters. Judging by Harry's frustrated sighs, which were slowly increasing in frequency, he hadn't found anything either. 

Draco was about to suggest they put the Cloak back on and sit in the corner to spy on the Minister for the rest of the day when a flash of white drew his attention to the fireplace. He knelt next to the embers, which were still glowing, and pulled a bit of burnt parchment from the ash. The edges crumbled in his fingertips. Half of the paper was missing, but three lines of runes were still visible. If only he'd taken Ancient Runes at Hogwarts. 

"What do you think?" Draco asked, handing the parchment to Harry.

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Hermione will be thrilled. Why don't we do one more sweep and then..." he trailed off, his eyes freezing in panic. 

Draco heard the door creak open behind them. He scrambled for the Invisibility Cloak, but it was too late. 

"Who are you and what are you doing in the Minister's office?"


	16. Chapter 16

_"Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it."_

— Albus Dumbledore

Hermione had cracked every joint in her body. She'd recited the recipe for Polyjuice Potion three times over. She had picked at her split ends and paced the small concrete room that seemed to be getting smaller by the second. _Was this better than waiting at Shell Cottage?_

She tossed the galleon into the air. She wasn't sore or tired anymore. The healing potions had worked. Of course, she'd taken too many in a short amount of time: the usual dose was one every 24 hours. She was surprised Draco hadn't known that. Hermione guessed she had eight more hours before the pain returned.

She glanced down at the Muggle men. They hadn't stirred. She wasn't sure she had the convictions to knock them out again if the effects of the spell wore off before Harry and Draco returned.

 _You have to_ , she told herself. Despite their good intentions, this was messy. If word got out that Harry Potter kidnapped two Muggles, stole their clothes, and left them half-naked in a warehouse...

Hermione groaned. They wouldn't be able to explain that.

She poked her head out the door again, but the boys were still inside the Ministry.

She shoved her hands in her pocket and began chanting the ingredients of Polyjuice again, whilst pinching at the supple skin on her stomach.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶ ⚯͛ ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

At just one glance, Draco recognized the intruder as Dolohov. For a moment, he forgot that he was using Polyjuice. He found himself hoping that Dolohov would recognize a bit of Lucius in him and spare him. Even if he did look like himself, his father was a traitor and Draco was a deserter, and the Death Eaters would spare him no mercy. For once, it was safer to be a Muggle than a Pureblood.

Without hesitation, Draco flung spell after spell at him. Dolohov blocked each curse, hex, and jinx easily. As his frustration grew, his spells slowed down and became lazy. He forced his senses to sharpen and continued to bombard the Death Eater. He couldn't give Dolohov a chance to perform any offensive spells.

 _What the hell is Potter doing?_ Draco questioned himself as he felt his shoulders fall in fatigue. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Potter fumbling for the galleon in his pocket. "Don't!" Draco hissed between curses. It was only one Death Eater, it wasn't worth wasting the time to contact Hermione.

In Draco's split second of distraction, Dolohov snatched his opportunity to attack Draco. " _Crucio_!"

Draco hit his forehead on the corner of the Minister's desk as he crumpled in agony. Pain erupted in his ears. He fought to keep consciousness and attempted to erect a shield charm between them, but to no avail. Dolohov turned his attention to Potter, but Potter was quicker than Draco had been.

" _Petrificus Totalus_!" Harry cried. Dolohov's arms and legs snapped together, stiff as a board, and he fell to the floor, face-down, with a hollow _thud_. 

Draco hoped it left a nasty mark. He was sitting on the floor now, legs sprawled out in front of him, leaning back against the smooth wood as he caught his breath.

"Malfoy, we have to move. Can you do the Legilimency?" Harry asked, pulling out an empty glass vial. He lifted the blinds on the window to ensure they weren't in danger of anyone walking in on them.

Draco sniffed. He spat out blood onto the carpet. "Clean that up," he told Harry as he snatched the vial and crawled over to Dolohov's head. Rising to his knees, he repressed the urge to spit on the man lying prone before him. A sour taste filled his mouth; the intoxicating taste of power. He could do anything he wanted to Dolohov. Of course, because of the Horcruxes, he couldn't kill him. But he could torture him, take a finger or two, make him forget his own name.

The temptation to hit him with an Unforgivable was overwhelming.

Potter finished cleaning up the bloodstain and looked at Draco. He seemed to know what Draco was thinking but didn't say anything. That brief moment of eye contact communicated enough: they were on the same page. The same thing was keeping them from acting on their impulses. They wouldn't be able to justify it to Hermione. And Draco wasn't in the mood for a lecture, even from her.

It was probably for the best that he left Dolohov intact. They didn't want to alarm the Death Eaters too much, especially before the entire Order united.

He touched the tip of his wand to the Death Eater's temple. " _Legilimens._ " The effort from such an advanced spell, coupled with the pain from the Cruciatus Curse, sent a wave of dizziness through him. He sank back onto his heels and tried again, gritting his teeth. " _Legilimens_." This time, a thin, blue thread of light wound its way up Draco's wand. He deposited the memory into the vial. " _Obliviate_."

Harry draped the Cloak over them and they exited the Ministry the same way they came in.

Without any further incident, they made it back to the warehouse, where they found Hermione gnawing on her bottom lip. Tension in her shoulders released and she let out a sigh of relief.

"Did they give you any problems?" Harry asked, jerking his head at the Muggles on the ground.

"No, but they're bound to wake up at any moment so you'll want to hurry."

Harry and Draco undressed and, with grunts of frustration, redressed the Muggles while Hermione stood guard at the door.

"Did you find anything?" she asked when the boys rejoined her. Harry nodded and guided her out the door. "Wait, we can't just leave them there!"

"What else would we do?" Draco said, pushing them both into the street.

"Well, we could..." she paused when she saw his face. Draco didn't turn away from her but kept his eyes averted upward as she caught his chin between her fingers. "What happened?" She touched the gash on his forehead, where he hit his head on the Minister's desk. He winced, but she didn't remove her hands.

"It's nothing," he said, tapping his foot. He clenched his fists. The street was more crowded now than when they first arrived in London. He wanted to get out as quickly as possible.

"Does it hurt?" It didn't. At least, not when she was touching him. All he could think about was how the pads of her fingers on her right hand-- her wand hand-- were calloused, while the ones on her left hand were soft and smooth. He lowered his gaze to look her in the eyes.

Harry cleared his throat.

"Bloody hell, Granger," Draco said, stepping out of her reach. "I'll let you nurse me back to health back at the house, but we need to leave."

"Wha-- where are we?" Draco heard from inside the building. He grabbed hold of Harry and Hermione and pulled them back to Cornwall.

No sooner than the three of them entered the house had Hermione fell onto the couch and drifted to sleep.

"That's one of the side effects of too many healing potions," Ron said without looking up from the Daily Prophet. He and Bill were seated at the kitchen table. Ron seemed to be set on ignoring them as much as possible.

Bill, on the other hand, was ready to launch into a tirade. "What on earth convinced you that any of... this-" Bill waved his arms around in the air, "-was a good idea?"

Harry opened his mouth to defend their actions, but Bill continued before he could get a word out. "Especially after what happened last time! You are fugitives! Wanted by everyone in the country: wizards and Muggles! And you think you can just waltz right into the Ministry of _fucking_ Magic without any backup?"

"We brought Hermione," Harry said sheepishly. He bowed his head. He looked to Draco like a child being reprimanded; not at all like the savior of the Wizarding World.

Bill's face turned a shade darker. It was nearly as red as his hair at this point. "Oh, that makes it better! Bring the one who was _tortured_ yesterday! She could barely stay awake until you got back." He gestured to Hermione's sleeping figure on the couch. "What would she have been able to do if you two were in trouble? How would she have defended herself if someone attacked her?"

Draco and Harry both remained silent. Draco chanced a glance at Ron. The younger Weasley was sipping his tea. He leaned back in his chair, still engrossed in his newspaper. Draco resisted the urge to hex the smug smirk off of his face.

Bill sighed and rubbed a hand over his freckled face. "Just wait until I tell McGonagall about this."

Harry's head lurched up. "You're planning on seeing her again soon?"

Bill's strict facade cracked into a small smile. "We all are."

Later that evening, after Hermione had woken from her well-deserved nap, everyone crowded around the kitchen table to hear about the letter Bill had received from the Order. Downing Street had been a dead end. The Muggle Prime Minister was feeling under the weather and had escaped to the countryside for a bit of fresh air. Kingsley called bullshit.

Despite the setbacks presented over the past few weeks, they found a new headquarters in Nottingham. A distant cousin of Neville's offered their dwelling. After a thorough search of the area, McGonagall and Kingsley deemed it safe for them to join the others. Harry and Hermione exchanged wide smiles at this news.

A pit of dread grew in Draco's stomach. He was barely in Hermione's good graces. Potter and Weasley tolerated him at best. The rest of the Order would not even let him through the door.

"Hey. Chin up," said Hermione. Draco looked at her, expecting her to be talking to him. Instead, she was looking at Ron. She poked him in the stomach.

Ron mumbled something into his mug. Draco couldn't quite hear what he said, but Hermione's face fell.

"You don't mean that," she said.

Ron shrugged.

"Don't do this again, mate," Harry said from the other side of Ron.

"Is this because I asked you to stay?" Hermione asked. Her voice rose at the end of the question. Draco knew she usually dropped it. "Please, Ron, we need you." She reached for his hand but he pulled it off of the table and stood up, shoving his chair backward. _Ron wasn't going with them,_ Draco realized. Was that an option? Maybe he should leave the heroes to be heroic and he could fade back into the backward and wait until this was all over.

"I need some time and space to think before I commit to this shit again," Ron said. He pushed past Fleur and stormed up the stairs. Bill followed him.

Harry sighed and dropped his head in his hands. Hermione rapped her fingers against the tabletop, waiting for Harry to speak. When Bill returned, Harry had made a decision. "We have to go tonight."

Hermione sniffed. Her eyes were rimmed with unshed tears and the tip of her nose was red.

"Ron knows where we are this time," Harry assured her. "He'll come. He always does."

She nodded and looked up at Draco. "You'll come?" Her bottom lip trembled as if she were afraid of his answer.

Draco nodded. _I'm much more helpful than the Weasel anyway,_ he wanted to say. He swallowed his sardonic retort. All fears of not being accepted by the Order faded. As long as he had Hermione on his side, he had a feeling he would be alright.

"We should pack," Harry said. Everyone stood and dispersed from the kitchen.

Draco had very little to pack; just his potions and a single change of clothes. It occurred to him to ask Harry or Ron to borrow a few extra shirts and a pair of jeans, but his pride prevented that. Hopefully, the safehouse in Nottingham would have some spare clothing he could wear. He collected as many potion bottles as he could carry and brought them downstairs. Hermione offered him her beaded bag and he dumped the vials inside. A few minutes later, Harry descended, an oversized backpack slung around his shoulders. Bill and Fleur followed close behind. 

"Ready?" Bill asked. He pulled a bucket of Floo Powder down from the mantel and held it out to Harry. "You go first. You can warn them about..." he trailed off, but his gaze drifted to Draco. Draco pretended he didn't notice. "We're going to Rose Court."

Harry scooped up a handful of the fine powder and stepped in the fireplace. He recited the name of the street, loud and clear, and evaporated into the flames. Hermione went next, then Draco, and Bill and Fleur brought up the rear.

Before he even landed in the fireplace in Nottingham, Draco heard shouts of outrage. When he stepped onto the dirty white carpet, all shouts stopped. All eyes were on him. Some, like McGonagall and Molly Weasley, looked at him with apprehensive sympathy. Others, like Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom, didn't even attempt to hide their distaste. Draco lifted his chin and set his mouth in a thin, straight line. He didn't want to do anything to upset or offend any of the Order members, but he also wasn't going to cower under their stares.

It wasn't until Bill arrived seconds later that the tension diffused a bit. Draco's presence was forgotten. The reunion of two-thirds of the Golden Trio to the rest of their friends and family took precedence. Luna and Neville were the first to rush forward and hug their friends. Arthur and Molly were next, wrapping Hermione and Harry in bone-crushing embraces. Even McGonagall welcomed them with an intimate affection Draco had never seen in her.

Draco stood in the corner. He listened to Hermione and Harry explain that Ron wasn't feeling well, but he would catch up with them in a few days. Bill said he would travel back and forth to check in on him, but everyone should be careful, in case the Floo Network was being tracked. 

Draco thought they were giving Ron entirely too much credit.

At one point, Molly tried to engage Draco in a polite conversation, but she was too distracted by the absence of her youngest son and had to excuse herself. By the time Seamus and Dean had a chance to greet their friends, Draco could see Hermione starting to get antsy and uncomfortable. Her breathing became labored.

"Finally joined the right side, Mr. Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall approached him, dressed in her signature tartan skirt. The old witch looked tired. She'd been fighting Death Eaters for most of her life at this point. Like everyone else, she thought the war would die with Voldemort.

"I hope so," Draco said.

When Charlie Weasley entered the sitting room with three bottles of Firewhisky in his arms, Draco moved forward from his spot in the corner. _Finally, this party is getting interesting_.

He scanned the room one more time to see Hermione talking with Ginny and Harry. More accurately, Ginny and Harry were talking at Hermione while she scratched at her forearm, her eyes darting around the room.

With a longing glance at the alcohol, which Charlie and Bill were pouring into shot glasses, Draco walked over to her. "I'm going to go outside and get some air." Her shoulders steadied when he spoke to her, but her eyes were still wide with panic. He took a step back. When she didn't seem to get the hint, he sighed and said, "You're invited, if you need to get away from this."

"Oh," she breathed. She inhaled and glanced back at Harry and Ginny. Harry had an arm slung around Ginny's shoulder, and she pressed a hand to his chest. He was teasing her for being so worried about him while he was gone.

Hermione turned back to Draco and exhaled. "Yeah, let's do that." Her voice sounded shaky and watery.

She threaded her way through the tight crowd with Draco close behind. When they reached the front door, Hermione threw it open. She sat on the edge of the porch, letting her feet dangle off of the edge, above the flowerbeds. Draco lowered himself down next to her. She pressed her forehead to the wooden rails and let out a choked sob.

Draco looked up at the night sky. The stars were bright, like pieces of salt scattered across a black tablecloth. It reminded him of Hogwarts. Late nights out by the lake with Theodore and Blaise and Pansy. Skinny-dipping and drinking Firewhisky they'd snuck in from Hogsmeade. He wondered where his friends were now. He wondered if they'd even recognize him.

He nudged Hermione's shoulder with his. She looked up and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. _Gross._

"Do you see the Big Dipper?" he asked. She nodded. "Over there is Polaris." He pointed to the brightest star in the sky. "And halfway between them, that faint star in the middle, that's Lambda Draconis. If you follow this line," he traced his finger in the air in the shape of a snake, "you'll see a square. That's the head of the dragon. The Draco constellation."

Hermione sniffled again. "It's more of a parallelogram than a square."

Draco grunted, amused.

She leaned back, pulling her knees into her chest. "You know, in Greek mythology, Draco was killed by Minerva. You might want to keep an eye on McGonagall while we're here."

A smile played along Draco's lips. "I'm pretty sure Hermione was married off to her cousin, so I don't know if you want to compare parallels."

Hermione laughed, her voice now void of the sound of her tears. "You can't judge. Purebloods are still marrying their cousins."

Draco let out a humorless laugh. "Seeing as my options would have been Nymphadora Tonks or Sirius Black, I don't think my father would have let that happen."

He felt Hermione's eyes on him. The joyous sound of the party was still going on behind them. A warm breeze ran through his hair, kissed his cheekbones. "Did your father have someone in mind?" she asked.

Draco nodded. "Astoria Greengrass. We were to be wed as soon as she graduated Hogwarts," he said, his accent thickening in an imitation of his high-strung father.

"Oh." Hermione looked back at the night sky. "She seems nice." Draco doubted Hermione had ever even interacted with Astoria. "It's so strange, thinking about all the plans we had for after the war. We knew everything was going to change, what was the point in even trying?"

Draco knew it was a rhetorical question, but he answered anyway. "We're human. We're desperate for any sense of ascendancy."

Hermione leaned back on her hands. "I just..." She paused and bit at her bottom lip, like she was about to say something she knew she shouldn't. "The future is so fragile. It gets narrower every day. Sometimes I feel like I can hold all the possibilities for my future in the palm of my hand. Like," she scrunched her nose in concentration. _Hermione Granger, at a loss for words_. Draco leaned the side of his head against the rail and waited for her to find them. "Okay, it's like all these plans and possibilities are a piece of paper. They've been crumpled into a ball, and we thought we salvage it and smooth it out, but now it's been set on fire." She sighed. "What do you do when your future is on fire?" Draco scratched his head. Hermione folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. "I'm not making sense?"

Draco shook his head. "You're making perfect sense." A cloud rolled in from the east, obscuring Polaris and then Lambda Draconis. He nodded towards the house, where the party was still in full swing. Draco knew no one would be bothered by his absence, but he was surprised that no one had come out in search of Hermione. "They're named after the Phoenix for a reason. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." She frowned, her face crisp with confusion. He pulled his legs up onto the porch so they were both sitting cross-legged, facing each other. "It's like you said, we make plans, and those plans change. But everything always happens exactly the way it's supposed to, regardless of our plans."

Hermione rubbed her fingers over her left forearm. Draco forced himself not to look at it. The scar. _Mudblood_. Dirty blood. "What do you when your future is on fire?" He repeated her question and shrugged. "All you can do. Watch it burn."


	17. Chapter 17

_"The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by an invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing."_

— Severus Snape

Hermione woke up with a dull headache and a pale memory from the night before. She groaned softly as she wiped the sleep from her eyes and sat up. She had slept curled up in an armchair. Her cramped position left a kink in her neck. The sun had just risen and filtered through the thin drapes over the windows. Everyone else seemed to be asleep.

Ginny was spooning Harry on the floor in front of Hermione. Luna was snoring on the opposite armchair. Seamus and Dean were slung across the sectional. The adults had claimed the bedrooms for themselves, leaving the kids to sleep in the living room. After four rounds of Firewhisky shots, they had all passed out before Draco and Hermione came back inside.

 _Draco._ Where was he? Hermione buried her face in her blanket as she thought about their conversation on the porch. What had possessed her to be so vulnerable with him? They were friends; Draco said so himself, even if he still harassed her from time to time. But she and Dean were friends, and she would never tell Dean the things she'd told Draco. She'd just been so overwhelmed, on the verge of a panic attack from being bombarded with questions and hugs.

She wrapped her arms around herself. Folding her legs into her chest, she set her chin in the valley between her knees. She was scared and anxious, and none of her friends noticed, but Draco did. He saw her cry, and he didn't make fun of her for it. Maybe he had changed. Or maybe she had misunderstood him for seven years.

When she heard the front door swing open, she relaxed her neck and closed her eyes. Forcing her breath to even out, she pretended to be asleep as Draco crept back through the hallway.

For what felt like an eternity and a half, Hermione kept her eyes closed. It wasn't until she felt something hairy brush across her forehead that she opened them. Her eyebrows raised and her jaw dropped as she recognized the orange ball of fluff. "Crookshanks!" Her sudden outburst caused the sleeping bodies in the room to stir.

Luna sat up and offered Hermione a dreamy smile. "He's been waiting for you," she said.

Hermione held the cat to her chest and brushed her cheek against his fur. "Sorry to wake you, Luna," she said sheepishly.

"Not to worry. I had a feeling we were about to be woken up anyway."

Sure enough, Mrs. Weasley barrelled down the stairs. "Still in bed?" she exclaimed, causing the rest of the teenagers to sit up. "Honest to goodness, the day is half over!" Hermione checked her watch. It was 8:30. Ginny moaned and pulled a pillow over her face. "Get dressed, and then come get breakfast. We have a big day!"

Almost twenty people were staying in a house with only 4 bathrooms. As she waited in line to brush her teeth, she wished she hadn't wasted the entire morning pretending to be asleep just to avoid Draco.

After she was finished in the bathroom, she went to the kitchen, piled a plate high with scrambled eggs and fruit, and sat back down next to her cat in the armchair. She allowed Crookshanks to nibble on her eggs, but he didn't like the watermelon.

Draco returned in a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt, sipping a cup of coffee. He moved to sit on the edge of the couch when Crookshanks jumped out of Hermione's arms and landed in Draco's lap. Surprised, he raised the coffee, causing some to spill over onto the couch. Hermione pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. He scowled as he cast a Scouring Charm on the couch and pushed Crookshanks off of him.

"He likes you," Hermione said. The cat settled onto her feet.

"I hate cats," Draco mumbled into his mug. She feigned offense and covered Crookshanks' ears.

Soon, the room was full of quiet chatter. Each member of the Order filed in, munching on their breakfast. When everyone had found a seat, McGonagall clapped her hands. "Now that we have ensured our heroes are safe," she gestured to Harry and Hermione. Hermione slunk back in her chair as each person turned to look at them. "It is time to strategize and attack. Our priority is to protect Muggles, but we must defeat the Death Eaters and their ideals of Pureblood supremacy." Murmurs of agreement erupted around the room.

She looked at Harry and Draco. "Starting with Dolohov's Horcruxes," she said.

Draco pulled out the vial containing Dolohov's memory. "This might be a good place to start."

Hermione reached for her beaded purse. She rifled through the endless junk-- it was way past due for a cleaning. Eventually, beneath piles of books, clothes, and potions, she found the pocket-sized Pensieve. They cleared a space in the center of the room for her to set it down. " _Engorgio,_ " she said. The Pensieve widened to its original size. Draco dumped the glowing blue liquid in the bowl.

McGonagall nodded in approval. "Harry, Draco, Kingsley, Hermione, and I will go in. I don't think we should risk too many people trying to view it at once." Hermione stood between her professor and Draco. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach. Harry gave her a reassuring nod. Taking a deep breath, like she was about to plunge into the sea, she submerged her head into the Pensieve.

It gave her whiplash. She didn't know if this was what Pensive trips always felt like, but she decided she was never going to take one again. As soon as she felt her feet touch the ground in what appeared to be Malfoy Manor, she was pulled to another memory, the Battle of Hogwarts. She saw herself, flinging hexes at Death Eaters. Then she was in Diagon Alley. She tried to crane her neck to see if Harry or Draco were still beside her, but couldn't seem to find them in the crowd.

The memory was tinged with blue. Apart from her, everyone moved slowly, like they were wading through water.

Next, she landed in a garden. A small girl and boy were playing in a sandbox. Then, lightning flashed. It blinded Hermione, and when she regained her senses, the girl was lying on her side, dead. Hermione flinched. She opened her eyes to find herself on a rock in the ocean, in the middle of a raging tempest. A gust of wind threatened to knock her over. She crouched on the jagged shards of stone, clambering for a grip. Then, the rock faltered and shattered beneath her feet. She tumbled headfirst into the sea and was pulled under by the undertow.

Cold fingers wrapped themselves around her wrist and pulled her out of the Pensieve. She fell backward into the armchair. Crookshanks jumped at the sudden movement and pounced into the hallway.

Hermione swallowed and tried to get her ragged breathing under control. "What the hell was that?"

Kingsley was looking between Draco and Harry.

"I don't know," Draco said, exasperated. "I don't know. I fucked up the spell." He set his jaw and thinned his lips. Kingsley reached out to pat Draco's shoulder, but he shoved him off and sat next to Hermione, on the arm of her chair.

"Did any of that mean anything to you?" McGonagall looked at each of them in turn.

Hermione shook her head. She pressed a hand to her heart and willed her heartbeat to slow.

"The cave," Harry said. Her eyes shot to him. She shook her head. She'd heard the story: she wasn't going to let Harry go back. "During our sixth year, Dumbledore took me to a cave on the coast to find one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. The last memory, on the rock, that's where the cave was."

"He wouldn't be that predictable," Hermione argued. She didn't want it to be true. "It's illogical."

"Not everyone is as bright as you," Draco said, his voice low enough that only she could hear it. He masked it with a tone of sarcasm, but she could detect his sincerity.

"They've been blindly following him for years. This is the best way Dolohov can think to honor his memory," said Harry.

McGonagall stepped forward. "This is the only lead we have."

"Not the only one," Draco said. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a spare bit of burnt parchment. Handing it to McGonagall, he explained, "It was in the Minister's fireplace. Maybe you and Granger can translate the runes."

The professor nodded. She pushed her glasses up her nose and examined the paper. "It's been coded. This may take some time. Harry, you and Kingsley will go to the cave and retrieve the Horcrux."

"No," Hermione stood. Her breath caught as everyone gaped at her outburst. "I was the one who helped Harry hunt Voldemort's Horcruxes. I think I should be the one to go with him."

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "It's not that simple." He recounted the story of his last visit: the boat, the Inferi, the awful liquid that forced Dumbledore to relive his worst memories. Guilt crept into his voice as he neared the end of his tale. Hermione's heart sank to her knees like a rock. She saw where this was going.

Only one person could get into the boat, but two were needed to empty the basin and retrieve the Horcrux. It was an impossible predicament.

Unless one knew an underage wizard.

Harry was unwilling to meet Ginny's eyes as he finished speaking. She paled, starkly contrasted her freckles. A hesitant silence fell over the room.

"She's a child!" Molly was the first to shatter the silence. "She will not be going to a cave where she could be killed by reanimated corpses!"

"Ron did practically the same thing when he was my age," Ginny said. She sounded queasy but was keeping a brave face. "Harry was younger when he first went."

Kingsley cleared his throat. "I will take Miss Weasley to the cave-"

Harry shook his head and interrupted. "It has to be me. I'm the only one who's been there."

"I'll go," Draco volunteered.

Hermione's fingernails bit into her flesh. _You don't have to_ , she wanted to protest. But at this point, she knew full well that he did. This was how he proved he was trustworthy.

Harry wasn't convinced. "It should be me."

"Are you really going to make your girlfriend force-feed you a potion that will make you want to die?" Draco asked. Ginny's eyes widened.

McGonagall, with her quiet authority, made a final decision. "Draco and Ginny will go to this cave. Ginny will ensure Draco drinks the potion."

Harry opened his mouth to contradict her commands. McGonagall raised her thin eyebrows in a challenge. He fell silent. "Mr. Potter and Miss Granger will wait outside the cave, in case of an emergency," she finished.

Sweet relief flooded Hermione's veins. Molly still looked uneasy, but she must have known with Harry and Hermione, Ginny was in good hands.

"In the meantime, anyone who has completed their O.W.L in Ancient Runes can help me decipher this message." McGonagall held up the parchment and waved it around. She marched into the kitchen, prompting the rest of the Order to follow.

"Stay safe," Charlie told them. He squeezed Harry on the shoulder and winked at Ginny.

Harry took a deep breath and held out his hands. "Ready?"

In turn, they each nodded and linked hands. Hermione felt the familiar, nauseating sensation. Like a hook pulling through space by her bellybutton.

They landed on the same rock that Hermione saw in Dolohov's memory. The sun was shining, but the wind was whipping around them, giving the air a violent chill. The waves were choppy and irregular. A salty splash of seawater sprayed her in the face. She lost her balance on the slippery rock and slid toward the edge, almost like the memory. Fear froze her as the icy depths below threatened to lap her up.

Draco caught her before she could completely fall over. He pulled her to his side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "What now?"

Harry and Ginny were holding hands. Ginny shivered and clutched her arm to her chest. With his free hand, Harry pointed to the shore. "It's over there. We have to swim." He took the lead in sliding into the water. He struggled to tread water, but the current was moving in the correct direction to take them to shore. As long as they could keep their heads above water, everything would be fine. Ginny jumped in next to him and began a smooth breaststroke to the rocky beach.

Draco helped Hermione into the chilly water. She sucked in a sharp breath as the water rose to her neck. Her legs were still sore from Bellatrix and Snape's torture, and the saltwater burned the gash on her neck. Less than halfway to their destination, she lost all feeling in her fingers and toes. More than once, a tall wave crashed over the top of her head, submerging her in the deeps. Nevertheless, she pushed on. She refused to give Draco or Harry any reason to doubt or mock her.

She crawled onto the beach, which was made of pebbles rather than sand. The rocks cut into her palms and her knees. Harry lifted her to her feet. Draco staggered as he found his balance. Ginny simply lay sprawled on the pebbles. She was still, save for her heaving chest, until Harry nudged her thigh with his shoe.

"This way." Harry's face was solemn, his tone brisk and distant. When they reached the mouth of the cave, he picked up a jagged rock and sliced the inside of his forearm, and let scarlet drops fall onto the stones. The door slid open, releasing a hollow, haunting echo.

"You know what to do?" he asked.

Ginny nodded. "Find the boat, drink the potion, don't touch the water."

He pulled Ginny closer to him and pressed his mouth to the crown of her head. "Be careful," he whispered.

"We'll be fine," she said. Hermione reached out to squeeze her hand.

As Draco brushed past Hermione, she placed a hand on his shoulder. He paused.

"Good luck. We'll be right here," she said.

He nodded without meeting her gaze and followed Ginny under the threshold to face the existential threat of the unfamiliar.


	18. Chapter 18

_"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."_

–Hermione Granger

"Don't touch that!" Ginny said with gritted teeth. 

Draco pulled his wand away from the pale corpse floating just below the inky surface of the water. He held up his hands in mock surrender. 

Apart from the small wake left by the tiny canoe, the water was still. And dark. It was impossible to tell how deep the lake was, but from the top, it looked endless. 

He and Ginny were cramped into the boat, which was obviously designed for only one person. He'd tried to be a gentleman and offered her the seat while he sat on the floor, his knees tucked underneath his chin and his sit bones cramping. Ginny, however, appeared to be more than comfortable with her legs stretched out before her. 

They approached the island in the center of the lake, lit by a dim green light. Ginny stepped out onto the stone and reached out to help Draco out of the boat. He ignored her hand. 

She clenched her fist and drew it to her chest. " _You're welcome,_ " she said sarcastically. She peered over the side of the bowl. "It's here." 

Draco gripped the edge. A long, thin knife lay at the bottom. He waved his wand and conjured an ornate silver goblet from thin air. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Make sure I finish this," he said. He hovered the goblet above the silvery liquid in the basin. "No matter how much I ask you to stop."

"Shouldn't be too difficult." 

He glared at her before dipping the goblet into the potion. _Here goes nothing_ , he thought as he raised it to his lips. 

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶ ⚯͛ ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

"Is this how you felt when I went off to fight the dark arts without you?" Harry was pacing, running his hand up and down his wand. 

Hermione nodded. She had perched herself on a rock and was snapping her hair-tie against her wrist. They had cast drying and warming spells on themselves, which caused Hermione's hair to frizz uncontrollably. 

"How did you cope?"

She blew a raspberry. "Homework, mostly."

Harry hummed and moved to stand next to her. "Figures." 

Hermione gave him a weak smile and squeezed his hand. He looked down at her. 

"She's going to be fine," Hermione assured him. 

He shook his head. "I should have been the one to go with. If Malfoy pulls something-"

"Like what?" Hermione yanked her hand out of his and leaped to her feet. 

Harry shrugged, holding his hands up. "I don't know, Hermione. He's a _Slytherin._ I wouldn't put it past him to-"

"Are you kidding? You think this is all an elaborate scheme to exacerbate a childish house rivalry?"

"Don't be so naive! Do you honestly think he's changed loyalties so quickly? He was practically bred to serve Voldemort. It's in his blood."

" _Yes_ , I do. And I thought you had enough faith in me to trust my judgment." 

"You know I trust you, but-"

"Then _please_ believe me when I say I believe in him." She sat back down on the rock. "He's played by your rules this entire time. He brought us to his house, which was filled with Death Eaters. He could've sold us out at any point, but we're still here." 

Harry clenched his fists. "Everything I've done for the past seven years has been to avenge my parents and protect you and Ron and all our friends. He's done everything he can to fight that."

"He saved me at Malfoy Manor. And before we found you, he warned me about the Death Eaters at Grimmauld Place." A wave crashed against the rocky shoreline. The white seafoam crept up, almost reaching their shoes. "I really think he's trying." 

Harry didn't look convinced, but he relented anyway. For now, at least. They settled into a comfortable silence and watched the waves. 

She had felt so empty before reuniting with her friends. Malfoy's company, vexatious and bothersome as he could be, kept her from going over the edge. He filled a different void. 

It was undeniable, how lost she felt without Ron and Harry. Like she was treading water even though her head was already six feet beneath the surface. She'd been so thrilled for them to all be under the same roof again, but now Ron had chosen to stay at Shell Cottage. Losing Ron was like losing her right arm. "I hope Ron comes to his senses," she said before she could stop herself. "Sorry," she cringed. "I know you're more worried about Ginny right now." 

"I know."

A blood-curdling scream echoed from the cave. Hermione's spine straightened and she reached for her wand. 

"They found it," Harry said. 

She buried her head in her hands and contemplated casting _Muffliato_ on the opening of the cave. Draco's screams were the last thing she wanted to hear. Common sense got the better of her; if anything went wrong, she and Harry needed to know immediately. 

"Wish you hadn't come, yet?" Harry asked. He sounded exhausted, but Hermione still heard a hint of smugness in his voice. 

_Only a little bit_. "No."

Another scream. Hermione stood and marched towards the cave. Harry placed his hands on her shoulders to stop her. 

"Hermione, don't," he warned. 

"Something could be wrong. The Inferi-"

"Ginny hasn't yelled. It's all psychological."

"It won't hurt to check it out, just in case." She pushed past him. She picked up a rock, sliced the back of her hand, and let the blood drip onto the rock. Harry followed her, huffing in irritation. 

Inside the cave, Draco's screams were clear. Ginny's hesitant but persistent coaxing bounced off the walls. Hermione blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. The cave provided protection against the wind, but the dampness and the darkness still cast a chill across the cavern. 

"No! Fire... not the fire. Crabbe!"

"You're almost done." 

"Please," Draco groaned. "Please stop. Just end it." A moment of silence while Ginny poured the liquid down his throat. Hermione stepped around mounds of rock, trying to get a view of the center of the lake. "NO!" he screamed. Hermione's breath hitched. "Don't kill him!" A tortuous sob left him. "Father, no!" 

She saw them. Draco, upright on his knees while Ginny gripped his chin and forced the potion into his systems. He looked like a lamb being brought to the slaughter. A cruel sacrifice prepared at a perverse altar.

"Mother," he whimpered. "Mum. I'm sorry!" 

Tears pricked at the corners of Hermione's eyes. 

"I told you it wasn't pretty," Harry said, but his voice wasn't mocking. 

"Last one," said Ginny. 

"Water," Draco croaked. 

She dumped it into his mouth. He sputtered. A few droplets spewed out of his mouth. "Don't... touch... her!" he shouted, falling back onto his heels. 

Ginny reached for him. "Just finish this cup," she said. 

Something slithered over Hermione's foot. She froze, but couldn't bring herself to look down. She didn't even want to think about all the creatures that crept and crawled around in this abandoned cave. 

Draco shoved her away. "STOP!" he screamed. "Don't hurt her!" 

Like a car crash, Hermione found it impossible to tear her eyes away from the horrific scene in front of her. 

Ginny grabbed him by his hair and forced his head backward before emptying the contents into his mouth. "All done, ferret," she said and discarded the goblet. She reached into the basin and pulled out a knife. She stuck it in the side of her boot, alongside her wand, and pulled Draco to his feet. As she heaved him to his feet, she caught a glimpse of Harry and Hermione. 

"Water," Draco said again. He fell into the boat and leaned over the side. 

"Malfoy!" Ginny cried and pulled him back in before he could touch the surface. 

The entire way back to Harry and Hermione, Draco shuddered and whined and gasped for water. Hermione watched with bated breath, crossing her fingers that he would stay in the boat. 

When they reached the lake's edge, Harry helped Ginny out of the boat. "Well done," he praised her softly. 

With Ginny's help, Hermione pulled Draco to his feet. He collapsed onto her, slinging a heavy arm around her shoulders. "Water, please!" he begged. 

"Soon," she muttered, though she had a feeling he wasn't lucid enough to understand a word she said. He probably couldn't comprehend his own thoughts and words. 

"Hermione," he groaned, burying his face in her hair. She pushed a hand against his chest. "Hermione."

"I'm here." She struggled to keep him upright. Harry slipped under Draco's other arm and helped Hermione carry him out of the cave. 

Ginny provided the blood sacrifice to exit. Once they were past the threshold, they set Draco down in the pebbles. Hermione pulled out her wand. " _Aquamenti._ " A stream of water surged from the tip of her wand and into Draco's mouth. The wrinkles in his forehead smoothed as he finally relaxed. He greedily swallowed the water. Hermione was beginning to fear he would drown himself when he turned his face away from them. She pocketed her wand and pulled him to his feet. 

"Are you okay?" she asked. 

He panted several more times before swallowing and said, "No. That was terrible." He didn't give Hermione any time to offer him sympathy or thanks before turning to Ginny. "You got the knife?" He leaned against the side of the cliff.

She pulled it from her black combat boot. 

"Can I see?" Harry asked. He was already pulling it from her hand before she had a chance to answer. He turned the blade over in his hands and traced the design on the handle. A silver skull sat at the top, with ravens carved into the silver. " _T_ _oujours Pur_ ," Harry read the inscription. Draco stood up straight. Hermione cringed at Harry's horrible French accent. "What's B.B.?" he asked. 

Hermione's eyes widened. Draco pushed past her and pulled the knife from Harry's hands. Hermione leaned over his shoulder to get a look at it. She choked out a laugh and took three steps back, running a hand through her kinky hair. "Oh, my God." She _had_ to laugh. At herself, at Draco, for being so stupid. It was so obvious; they should have seen this coming from a mile away. 

Draco ran a hand over his jaw, looking angrier than Hermione had ever seen him. 

"What?" Ginny asked. 

"The skull and the ravens," Draco explained, handing the knife over to her, " _Toujours Pur_." Draco's French accent was perfect. 

Not that Hermione was paying any mind to it.

"The Black family crest," Harry said, a quizzical look pinned on his face. 

"Dolohov was never the one creating Horcruxes," Hermione said. Suddenly, a nice long nap beneath the raging ocean waves seemed preferable to whatever suicide mission they were about to get themselves into. "B.B. for Bellatrix Black." 


	19. Chapter 19

_"Anything's possible if you've got enough nerve."_

—Ginny Weasley

In her dormitory at Hogwarts, Hermione always kept a picture frame on her nightstand. It was a photo of her and her parents, taken at a cousin's wedding when she was eleven years old. In the photo, Hermione stood between them, a bright smile on her face. She wore a pale pink dress and a flower crown. When she was at home for the summer, the picture was kept on her mantel, right in the center.

Then, last summer, she had to erase any evidence of her existence. The girl with the bright smile and the pale pink dress faded away, along with the ghost of her innocence. She wondered if her parents noticed the gap in the portrait where she once was. She wondered if her parents would recognize her if they saw her now. She wasn't even sure she recognized herself. She'd lived countless lifetimes since she'd last seen them. Even more since that photo was taken.

Daddy's little princess, they'd called her. When had she turned from princess to soldier? Once upon a time, she'd worn a flower crown. Now, here she was, tying daisies into chains and folding roses into weapons.

The trip to Voldemort's Horcrux cave had, despite the frustrating realizations, gone much smoother than expected, all things considered. Hermione had reigned in her anger toward Draco and instead focused her frenetic energy on doing what she did best: studying.

Hermione had received an O in her Ancient Runes O.W.L., but the message still perplexed her. Runes were meant to be read in a certain order, from a certain perspective. The size, shape, and orientation of a rune changed its meaning and none of the runes on the parchment from the Minister's office made sense in their current presentation.

McGonagall had deciphered two of the coded runes while they'd been away: 'order' and 'kill'.

"This marking here," said McGonagall, pointing to a single line through the "order" rune, "indicates a proper noun. I think they are referring to the Order of the Phoenix."

"Thestral," Kingsley corrected from across the room.

McGonagall waved him off. "The wording is strange, though. Sometimes runes can mean different things, but the 'kill' rune has only one meaning. They didn't say attack, which makes me think they-- the Death Eaters-- are planning to single out a member of the Order to assassinate."

"Harry?" she asked. Her voice was as brittle as her bones felt. Seven years later, and she still wasn't used to the constant threat of death and destruction that loomed over her best friend's head.

McGonagall set her lips into a thin, tight line. "That seems to be the most likely outcome."

Hermione felt her heartbeat speed up as she leaned over the parchment.

She, McGonagall, Kingsley, and Luna pored over the runes for hours, well into the evening. They didn't move from the kitchen table while Neville and Molly cooked dinner. They ignored the rush as everyone served themselves. Hermione denied taking a break for food. Harry told her to eat three times, every hour on the hour before McGonagall finally intervened and took the parchment away from her.

"Please, Professor, I'm so close to getting that one," she pleaded. It was the sign for _man,_ she was almost sure of it. In class, she had seen that rune used as a pronoun. _Kill him,_ the message said _._ McGonagall was right; they were singling out one member.

McGonagall tucked the parchment into her breast pocket and took a big bite of her chicken.

"Eat?" Harry held out a plate.

"I'm not hungry." She looked around at her friends, scattered about the kitchen and living room. One person was missing.

"Where's Malfoy?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "I haven't seen him since we got back."

"He's wallowing in his self-loathing on the roof." Seamus inserted himself into their conversation.

"Self-pity, more likely," Harry grumbled.

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. "Play nice."

"He fed us false information."

"Not on purpose."

Harry scoffed and walked away. He ruffled Neville's hair affectionately and sat down next to him and Dean.

Hermione took an apple from a bowl on the table and set up the stairs. The master bedroom, she learned earlier, had a balcony with easy access to the roof. She climbed up the trellis and found Draco leaning against the shallow slope of the roof, his feet propped up on the gutter. His white-blonde hair shone in the moonlight. It hung below his ears-- he was past due for a haircut.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked by way of announcing herself. She didn't particularly care whether or not he minded.

"As long as you have food," he said. She tossed him the apple. He frowned. "This doesn't count."

She shrugged. "Tough luck." She slid down the roof to sit beside him, making sure to keep several inches of empty space between them.

"What's this?" Draco asked, touching her collarbone. She reached up to her neck. The rosary.

She untucked her necklace and let the black beads fall over her chest, settling in the valley between her breasts. "Oh." She'd forgotten about it. How would she confess that she'd stolen it from his family's collection? "I meant to ask you about it. I found it in your library." The corners of his lips turned down.

"I've never seen it." He picked up the cross at the bottom and ran his thumb over it. "What is it?"

"A rosary?" He gave her a blank stare. She sat up and tugged the beads from her neck. "It's a prayer necklace. Are your parents religious?"

He shook his head and flared his nostrils. "Wizards aren't religious."

Hermione shrugged and pressed the necklace into his hand. "It was probably there by mistake, then," she said, but she wasn't sure she believed that. Draco rolled the beads between his fingers, his eyebrows pulled together. Then, he shrugged and tucked the rosary into his pocket.

She couldn't tell if it was just the silvery glow of the moon, but she thought he looked paler than usual. The bags under his eyes were darker. "I don't know if anyone has had a chance to thank you for what you did today, but thank you."

He kept his gaze on the dark horizon. "I didn't do it for you."

Her eyes dragged down the side of his face. His sharp cheekbones, defined collarbone peeking out from underneath his white t-shirt. The lean muscles on his arm, the burn marks on the inside of his forearm, the green edges of the Dark Mark. "We're a team. All for one, one for all."

He crossed his arms over his chest as if he sensed her eyes on his Mark. "I wouldn't do it again."

She tore her gaze away and looked at her own hands. Dirt was caked beneath her nails. She absent-mindedly picked at them. "We wouldn't ask you to." She looked up. Polaris was directly above them. From there, she easily found Lambda Draconis and traced the shape of the Draco constellation with her eyes. "Can I ask what..." She knew she was overstepping even as the words left her tongue, but her curiosity was insatiable. "What did you see?"

Even with half a foot of empty space between them, she felt him tense beside her.

"I didn't just _see_ things," he said. "It was like I was there. Not like I was reliving the memory; it wasn't like the Pensive." He rubbed a hand over his face. "It was _so_ vivid. Getting my..." he held up his arm, unwilling to say the words, _Dark Mark_ , aloud. Hermione got a good look at the burn this time. It had faded to an ashy purple. The tongue of the serpent and the top of the skull were still visible beneath the wounds. Anyone looking at him would recognize the symbol. She wanted to ask him why he didn't completely cauterize the Mark, but she'd already dug too deep. Maybe another day.

"It was like the Battle of Hogwarts all over again. Crabbe died. My father died." Draco let out a shaky breath. "My mother broke."

He looked down at her as if seeing her for the first time. She felt impossibly small underneath his heavy stare. "You were writhing in pain on the floor of my dining room and--" He shook his head. Her lips parted. She suspected the potion forced him to relive her torture, but she didn't expect him to admit it. "I swear, I thought it was Dolohov. I wouldn't lie to you to protect Bellatrix."

"I know."

"She took everything from me. I am going to return the favor." Hermione didn't miss the way his eyes flickered to the scar on her left forearm. Her right hand reactively reached for it. She pinched the skin above the scar. "This is the reckoning. The retribution is yet to come."

He looked back up at her and for a fleeting moment, she recognized the boy from school. The boy who masked his fear with arrogance and his sadness with a smirk. Who had killed a Muggle. A shiver raced down her spine. And then he was gone. She wasn't sure how to reconcile the Draco she used to know and the Draco that sat before her. The Draco with the wide eyes and worry lines on his forehead.

The Draco with a wicked smile and a heart of iron.

She realized she'd been staring at him for too long and turned away. She broke through her skin with her fingernails. A dot of scarlet bubbled up where she'd been pinching. She wiped the blood on her shirt.

Fireflies blinked up and down the street, like an unfelt current, electrifying the warm summer night. The sparse inches between them suddenly felt like a chasm.

"Why do you do that?" he asked. He was looking at the scratch marks on her forearm. She hesitated, cradling her left arm to her chest. "As long as we're being frank with each other."

She lowered her arm. The marks usually faded quickly, but she'd felt more anxious than usual over the past few days. She'd gotten so used to only being with Draco, Harry, and Ron; the crowded house and constant noise were overwhelming and exhausting. Sometimes she scratched and pinched and pulled at her skin as a distraction, other times she didn't even realize she was doing it.

"This year, I've made my parents forget that I even exist. I was tortured. Twice. I watched my best friend die and come back to life. I'm trapped in this endless loop of destruction and pain and I just _need_ to control some of it. Or at least understand it. Do you know what I mean?"

"No." The skin around his lips whitened as he lowered his eyebrows. His voice was gravelly and threatening, like thunder. "You don't win a war by shooting yourself in the foot; you have to go after the real enemy."

Hermione clenched her fists and turned her arm over so the scar and her scratches were hidden. She hadn't anticipated sympathy from Draco, but she wasn't interested in being told how to deal with her pain. "I'm not trying to win a war right now, Malfoy. I'm just trying to make it through tomorrow without losing my goddamn mind."

"There are better ways to do that," he said, his voice rising. "There's a whole house of people right below us who would be willing to lay their lives down for you. Surely they can spare twenty minutes to talk about your _feelings_."

She flinched. _This_ was exactly why she didn't want to talk to anyone else about it. Why would he even ask her to talk about it if he only planned on gaslighting her?

"I don't expect you to understand," she said. Truth be told, she was happy he didn't understand. She exhaled and threw her head back. "I don't even know who I am anymore. I don't recognize myself in the mirror. How am I meant to know if Harry and Ron and Ginny and Neville still see _me?_ " Draco's features still appeared to be chiseled from stone; cold and hard and sharp, but his eyes had softened, so she continued. "I've never thought I would be capable of killing someone... And I still don't think I could point my wand and say _Avada Kedavra_ at a living human being." She tucked her lips in. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill. "But when I thought Harry died, I looked at this courtyard full of students and teachers and friends I'd known for seven years and I thought, _I would gladly trade all of their lives just to get Harry back_." She angrily swiped a tear from her cheek, hating herself for looking weak in front of him. Why did she always end up crying with him? "This--" She threw up her arm. "--It reminds me that I _exist._ I haven't gone insane yet. And it reminds me of who I could become. Of who I _never want_ to become."

Draco's shoulders dropped as he tilted his head and looked at her sideways.

This was the other reason she hadn't told anyone. She didn't want anyone to look at her differently. With pity. The small pricks of pain were the least she deserved.

"You're the one who told me penance isn't real. You can't escape culpability. Especially if you never did anything wrong in the first place. Temptation isn't a sin," he said. Another tear slipped out of her eye. He reached over and brushed it away with his thumb. His dark lashes fluttered across his milky skin as he looked down at his hand, rubbing at the wetness on his thumb with his forefinger. "For what it's worth, I used to think I wasn't capable of killing either, but some sacrifices are worth it."

She rubbed her wrist, feeling the raised scratch marks. Some had scabbed over, others were still smooth and tender. "What changed?"

He dropped his chin to his chest. She knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth.

At that moment, she knew he saw her for who she was. Not what she could be, and not who she had been in school. She found it strange, how inexplicably familiar his company was. The two loneliest hearts in all of England, after seven years of hatred and animosity, had finally found solace in the other's shadow.

"I saw you," he said, "writhing in pain on the floor of my dining room."


	20. Chapter 20

_"Soon we must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy."_

—Albus Dumbledore

With a frustrated sigh, Hermione dropped a thick, dusty tome on the kitchen table. She _knew_ her N.E.W.Ts level textbook would come in handy.

Draco started, almost knocking his cup of coffee over. He was wearing a black hoodie, with the hood pulled up, covering his hair. "Do you carry that around with you everywhere you go?"

"Not everywhere."

Harry handed her a steaming cup of tea. He looked over her shoulder at the parchment. Hermione had written so many notes, the original message was difficult to find between all her scribbles. "How's the translation going?" he asked.

Hermione pointed to a spare piece of paper. "'Order'," Harry read. "'Must kill him.' Kill who?"

"I don't know," Hermione groaned and put her head in her hands. "I thought I could solve it, but we've barely made any progress." She glared at Harry. "I told you to take Ancient Runes with me. If you had, we might have figured this out by now."

"Trust me, if even _you_ can't figure it out, I wouldn't be any help at all."

"Besides," said Draco. "Half of it is burnt off. It might be impossible to decipher at this point."

"But this," she jabbed her finger at an intricate, round rune, "is a prepositional phrase. I know that much. This one is a verb." There was only one rune left. "If this is a noun, it makes a complete sentence."

Harry flipped through the pages of her textbook. The last untranslated rune was the most intricate Hermione had ever come across. Perhaps it was a symbol made up by the Death Eaters.

"You know," a voice said from the door. "I took Ancient Runes." Hermione spun around in her chair to see Charlie Weasley leaning in the doorframe. His arms were folded over his chest, accentuating his roped muscles. 

Ginny came up from behind him and snorted. "He got _Troll_ on his O.W.L.," she said, wrapping her arms around Harry's torso from behind.

"I know enough to tell you _that,_ " Charlie pointed to the final rune. "Is two separate runes written over each other."

He took the quill from her hand and drew the two different runes side by side.

Hermione flipped through her textbook, searching desperately for matches.

"This one means 'stern'," Charlie said.

Draco looked up, his interest piqued.

 _Stern?_ If the rune represented the name of someone in the Order, McGonagall was the first person who came to mind. But the message referred to a male.

She paused her flipping and examined Charlie's drawing. She exhaled softly as she compared it to the drawing on her page. _It was a match._

"Disgrace?" she read. That couldn't be right. She turned Charlie's drawing over.

Draco pulled the parchment out of her hands.

"Hey!" she said.

"'Stern' and 'disgrace'," he repeated, ignoring her protest. "Remind you of anyone?"

"Your father?" Harry quipped.

Draco rolled his eyes and bit back a snide retort.

"Look, she's been at this for three days," Harry said. "This is a matter of life and death for one of us. If you know what it means, just tell us."

Draco leaned forward on his elbows and slid the parchment back to her. "Brightest Witch of Our Age, right?"

She shook her head. "I don't-" She cut herself off and met his eyes. _I know who you are_ , they seemed to say. She had changed so much, but as long as she had her determination, her wit, she was still Hermione Jean Granger. "Yeah."

 _Stern_ , she wrote above the first rune. Then she scrawled a list of synonyms below them, hoping one would spark a realization.

Harsh. Somber. Disapproving. Severe. Serious. Austere.

She looked over the list. Her eyes widened as she looked up at Draco. He looked pointedly at the second rune. "Think Norse roots," he said.

"Disgrace, disgrace, disgrace," she muttered under her breath. _Norse roots?_ Again, she looked at Draco, who was looking back at her with expectation all over his face. _Sneypa._ "Snape?".

Draco leaned back in his chair.

"They know he's a double agent." She looked at Harry. "We have to get him out."

"I'll tell McGonagall," he said. He squeezed Hermione's shoulder and pecked Ginny on the top of her head.

Ginny sighed and took the seat between Draco and Hermione. "It's one thing after another, isn't it? Will we ever get a break?"

Hermione rubbed circles on her back. "We'll get through it," she said. "We always do."

Ginny folded her arms on the table and set her head down.

Hermione looked over the top of Ginny's head at Draco. He raised his eyebrows, a proud smirk on his lips, despite the dire circumstances. She offered a soft, grateful smile in return.

Then, Seamus and Dean burst through the kitchen door. "Where's Harry?" Dean said, panting as if he'd just run a marathon.

Ginny straightened. "Outside, with McGonagall."

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

"Death... Eaters... in Diagon Alley," Dean gasped for air with each breath.

Hermione jumped to her feet.

"Let's go," she said to Draco, her tone dripping urgency. Normally, she would follow protocol and tell Kingsley or McGonagall, but there was no time. She couldn't risk anyone objecting to their action or slowing them down.

He stood, followed by Ginny, who was already reaching for their hands to apparate.

They landed on Charing Cross Road, outside the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. Through the window, she saw them: three men in black robes, with shiny badges pinned on their chests. She couldn't read them from outside, but she suspected it labeled them as Wizard Law Enforcement. It ostensibly rendered them invincible, even in the Muggle world.

They weren't wearing masks. Hermione recognized them from the Battle of Hogwarts. At least they didn't have to worry about Muggles becoming collateral damage.

"What's the plan, Granger?" Draco asked.

 _Plan?_ She didn't have a plan. She wasn't supposed to be the leader; Harry was. And Harry never had a plan, he just acted. "Steal their memories and then make them forget?"

Neither Ginny nor Draco looked convinced. "I'll go around back," Ginny offered and slipped into a nearby alleyway. Hermione glanced back at the men inside the pub. She shifted her weight between her feet and picking at her fingernails.

"Ready?" Draco asked.

"No," said Hermione. Panic ballooned in her chest, rising through her throat like hot air. Why didn't they have a plan? Were they just going to walk right in and start throwing spells around?

Draco didn't hear her, or at least, pretended he hadn't heard her, and marched through the front. She caught a flash of silver. The Death Eater mask he'd taken from the Muggle when they had first left Hogwarts together.

 _That's still the Draco you know_ , she reminded herself as her heart rate increased. He was menacing underneath the mask. She stuck to the dark corner as she watched him walk confidently up to the Death Eaters. They exchanged strange salutes, a ritual that must've carried over from Voldemort's reign, before settling into an easy conversation. The Death Eaters relaxed, but Draco still stood tall, refined. He was all right angles and straight lines. Stiff, like it had been beaten into him.

It probably had.

A streak of red hair drew her attention to the back door, where Ginny stood. She nodded at Hermione and jogged up the stairs to get a better vantage point. Hermione made to follow her when she felt cool fingers snake around her wrist. She was yanked back into an alcove, out of Draco and Ginny's sight.

She pressed her hands to a wide chest and tried to push away. The man, not much older than her, was handsome, apart from the predatory smirk and minacious green eyes. "What's a pretty thing like you doing here alone?" he asked, flashing his canines. His jaw and cheekbones were sharp, like the steel mask on a suit of armor.

She hung her head, mostly to keep him from recognizing her, but she also hoped the submissive gesture would get him to leave her alone. The last thing they needed was to draw unnecessary attention or a distraction from the task at hand. And Hermione knew from experience: putting up a fight only made her a more interesting prey.

Like the Death Eaters in the corner, this man had a badge pinned to his chest, although his was copper, not silver. She shoved against him again, but he wouldn't let her go. Was he one of the Muggles recruited to the Death Eaters?

He must've been. And this was the incentive: a taste of authority over wizards and witches. There would be no consequences for grabbing a young girl off the street, especially if they knew she was a Mudblood. He was drunk on the illusion of power and oblivious to the fact that he was a pawn in the Death Eater's sick game. He leaned over her, his warm, putrid breath penetrating her nose.

One hand slipped up her shirt, underneath her bra. He squeezed her breast.

Hermione tensed up and froze. Or maybe the world around her was moving faster and she couldn't keep up. How many times had the sun revolved around her in those seconds? Or was it the other way around?

Her breath sped. She felt herself falling down down down the rabbit hole, trying to claw her way out of the earth the same way her breaths were clawing their way out of her throat. Aching, raking, lungs and suddenly she was choking on the moment, on the betrayal, on the regret.

The hairs on her arms were a million lit matches. This was her last fragile piece of innocence. She had to fight for it.

With both hands, she grabbed his arm and twisted. The man let out a yelp of pain, but then pulled away with a victorious grin. The tip of Hermione's fingers were icy. Her mouth filled with the taste of copper, as he twirled a vine wood stick in his hand. She patted her pocket, but she already knew it was gone. He had taken it.

Touching her was just a distraction. Exactly the type of distraction they couldn't afford.

The Muggle man couldn't use her wand, and Hermione could still use wandless magic. The man was twice her size and could overpower her without much effort. One of his friends moved behind Hermione and reached her wrists. She struggled as he tugged them behind her.

She summoned all her strength into a spell. _Petrificus Totalus_ , she thought, biting her lip and clenching her jaw in concentration. She felt the spell die on the tips of her fingers as cuffs were clamped around her wrists, restraining them behind her.

"Potter's Mudblood friend," the first man laughed, holding up a poster with her face on it. "You're gonna make us filthy rich."

Hermione twitched.

"Don't bother," the second man said. "The cuffs are bewitched. You can't do any spells."

"The Minister has been contacted. Someone will be here shortly to... take care of you." The same raptorial smile tore apart his face. Hermione tensed her shoulders. They were bigger than her, but she could use that to her advantage; she had done it before. She turned away from the men and pretended to wipe tears on her shoulder.

The two men laughed. "War heroine ain't so tough anymore, huh?" he taunted.

A shrill scream sounded from the main room of the pub. _Ginny._ Hermione kept her head turned away to hide the look of panic that crossed her face.

"What was that?"

"I'll go check it out," the first man said. The second one seemed uneasy about being left alone with Hermione. "She's like fifteen years old," the first man assured him. "What's she gonna do?"

Hermione let her shoulders shake, to keep up the illusion.

"Hurry back," the second man said. When they were alone, he groaned. "I need a cigarette."

The moment he turned his back, Hermione stood. She shoved her shoulder against his side, knocking him against the wall. Taken by surprise, his head smacked against the bricks, causing dust to fly away from the wall. She seized the opportunity to knee him in the groin. He collapsed to the floor, clutching his crotch in pain.

With her hands still tied behind her back, she returned to the main dining room to find Ginny and Draco exchanging curses with the Death Eaters. One was lying prone on the floor. Onlookers had taken cover underneath tables and chairs, unwilling to interfere with the fight. The Muggle, who had acted invincible with Hermione, was cowering in the front door.

" _Petrificus Totalus_ ," Ginny shouted.

At the same moment, Draco yelled " _Stupefy._ "

Both Death Eaters fell to the floor, unconscious. Ginny put away her wand and caught sight of Hermione. She rushed over to help her friend, while Draco knelt beside the first Death Eater and prepared to steal his memories.

"Hermione! What happened, are you okay?"

Hermione nodded but looked nervously at the Muggles and wizards in the pub. The three of them couldn't _Obvliate_ everyone.

The fact that no one was racing to apprehend them was good news. Maybe more people were on their side than they thought.

"Let me see these cuffs," Ginny said. She pushed Hermione around and pulled at the bracelets. They didn't budge, so Ginny began trying spells. As she worked, Hermione watched Draco as he capped the vial with the first Death Eater's memories. He had pushed his mask back, so she could see his face. His lips were pressed in a straight line, but the rest of his face was relaxed. She liked it when he looked at peace, she decided.

He stood and pulled out his wand to _Obliviate_ the man. Hermione admired his long legs, the grace with which he moved, like a panther.

A jolt of movement from behind Draco pulled her attention away from him. One of the other Death Eater's had woken up.

"Draco!" Hermione yelled, pulling her cuffed hands out of Ginny's grip. The man withdrew his wand and pointed it at the blonde boy. Hermione forced herself to move faster, struggling to keep her balance without the use of her arms. Draco looked up in surprise at her. His mouth parted when he saw the Death Eater standing before him. He fumbled for his wand as panic spread across his face.

" _Crucio!_ " the Death Eater shouted at Draco, right as Hermione stepped in front of him and fell to the floor with a nauseating cry of pain.


	21. Chapter 21

_"Just because it's taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl!"_

— Hermione Granger

" _Sectumsempra!"_ Ginny yelled, rushing across the room to Draco and Hermione. The Death Eater fell into a table, clutching his sides as thick, dark liquid stained his shirt.

Hermione was still screaming on the floor. Her back arched in pain, even though the curse had stopped. All the color had drained from her face.

"Granger?" Draco's voice cracked as he sank to his knees beside her. His words sounded strange to his ears; like he was listening to a recording of himself. His tongue felt like it weighed a hundred pounds as he brushed her hair out of her eyes. Her skin was coated with a thin film of sweat. Her eyes were clenched shut, and she was shaking her head, her bottom lip trembling. "I'm going to turn you over," he muttered. She whimpered as he pushed her onto her side to examine the enchanted handcuffs. _How the hell did this happen?_ Her elbows were bent, awkwardly pulled together. She'd be lucky if her shoulder wasn't dislocated. "Stay still."

He pulled out his wand. " _Diffindo_." The metal cracked and fell away, but angry red marks still circled her wrists. Draco tucked his arms beneath her and pulled her to her feet.

"I got her," Ginny appeared beside him and reached for Hermione.

Draco pulled Hermione closer to him and away from Weasley. He felt Hermione's small hands close around the fabric of his sweatshirt. He knew Ginny would never let any harm come to Hermione, but the gesture only heightened this inexplicable sense of protectiveness over her.

"You have to finish pulling the memories," Ginny reminded him, swinging Hermione's arm around her shoulder. Color had returned to her face. She was breathing heavily and relying on Ginny to uphold her weight, but at least she was lucid now.

Draco pulled away and crouched beside the Death Eater who had attacked Hermione. The sight of him, crying, lying in a pool of his own blood, filled Draco with sick satisfaction. He plucked the silver badge from the Death Eater's chest.

" _Legilimens_ ," he said and deposited the glowing blue memory into a new vial. " _Obliviate._ "

He stood and prepared to walk away; to get Hermione to safety. But the sight of her awakened something in him that he thought had gone dormant long ago. The wide, innocent eyes. Her thin limbs, shaking like a leaf on a windy day.

"Get her out of here," he ordered Ginny.

"What?" Hermione protested, but her voice was weak.

Ginny nodded, understanding what Draco was planning to do. What he _needed_ to do. Ginny held her wand in front of her as she led Hermione out of the inn. Everyone had seen her cast the horrific curse on the Death Eater; they wouldn't dare try to get in her way.

Once the girls were out of view, Draco clenched his jaw. He dropped to a knee and leaned over the Death Eater's face. He couldn't find the right words to express his rage, but actions speak louder than words anyway. Draco spat on his face, then lifted the badge and plunged the pin into the man's eye. He shrieked and clawed at Draco, then at the badge. Blood leaked out of his socket, dripping down the side of his face.

A collective gasp and hushed, concerned whispers fell over the room. Draco ignored the onlookers. He wrenched the pin out of the man's face, taking the eye with him. A sickening _snap_ sounded. Draco flinched as he flicked the eye off the needle. It rolled across the floor, settling underneath a table. Struggling to keep his composure, he tucked the pin into his pocket and strode out of the inn. He couldn't bring himself to look at the Death Eater before he did, though he wished he had the courage to look at the coward who had the nerve to--

 _Fuck_. Just the thought of it made bile rise in his throat.

He shook his head and shoved open the door. Hermione was leaning against a telephone booth, rubbing her wrists. After three long, hurried strides, he took her face in his hands. She started at his touch and leaned away from him. "Are you alright? Are you okay to apparate?" She nodded. He smoothed down her hair and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Are you sure?"

"Guys, we have to go," Ginny said and pointed above the building across the street.

"Fuck," said Draco. Dark clouds were rolling in. The temperature around them dropped several degrees. He felt Hermione suppress a shiver. A grey, cloaked figure emerged and floated towards them. _Dementors._

Hermione wrapped both of her arms around one of Draco's. He took Ginny's hand in his free one and brought them back to Neville's cousin's in Nottingham.

Harry was the first to bombard them with questions when they landed in the living room. "Where the fuck were you? Why didn't you bring backup?"

"Language, Mr. Potter," warned Professor McGonagall.

Draco tossed Harry the vials filled with memories. "Move," he growled at Seamus and Luna who were lounging on the couch. He helped Hermione sit down and pulled a blanket around her shaking frame.

"One of Death Eaters got her with Cruciatus Curse," Ginny explained to Potter and McGonagall.

"Oh, Hermione," Harry sighed and sat next to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Hermione shot up, removing the blanket.

She crossed her arms over her chest and backed away from the group. Draco's stomach hollowed. "I'm fine," she said, her eyes darting around the room. "I'm fine."

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Why don't you go upstairs and rest in a proper bed?"

Hermione looked at McGonagall but didn't seem to see her. "Upstairs?" she repeated.

McGonagall nodded. Hermione hesitated. She looked at Draco, her wide eyes glossy with unshed tears and blind trust.

Blind, unearned trust in him.

He felt sick all over again. Draco nodded to her, offering a pathetic excuse for a reassuring smile. "I'll be up in a minute."

His eyes followed her up the stairs until she disappeared from view.

"How the fuck could you let that happen to her _again_?" Potter asked when they heard the door shut.

"Don't fucking curse at me, Potter," Draco said, balling his hands into fists.

"It wasn't his fault," said Ginny. "The curse was meant for Malfoy; Hermione jumped in front of him."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, forcing it up into a million different directions.

"Something else happened," Draco said. "Before the Crucio. I think there were other Death Eaters in the Leaky Cauldron. They must've tried to take her, but she got away."

"They had these handcuffs that prevented the use of magic," Ginny added. She sat down on the couch, pulled her knees up to her chest, and sighed. "Did you get word to Snape?" she asked McGonagall.

The professor shook her head. "He told me last week they'd be at Hogwarts until further notice. I can't risk sending an owl. Harry and I will go tomorrow in person to extract him." She eyed Draco warily. "You and Miss Granger may join if she's feeling better."

Draco nodded. "Right." He wasn't sure he wanted to return to Hogwarts. The room settled into an uncomfortable silence. "I, uh, I should go check on her then. Let me know what you see in the Pensieve."

He steeled himself as he climbed the stairs. He had a distinct feeling Weasley, Potter, and McGonagall were talking about him, but couldn't bring himself to care. Crookshanks followed him, tail swishing through the air as he bounded up behind Draco's heels.

He knocked once on the first door before letting himself and the cat in.

Hermione was sitting on the side of the bed, her legs dangling off the edge. Crookshanks jumped onto the bed and curled into Hermione's side.

"How are you?" he asked.

"He took my wand," Hermione said. She blinked and stared at her feet. She stroked the cat's orange fur.

Draco moved to sit in the armchair across from the bed. His boots sounded heavy against the wooden floorboards. "We'll get you another one." When she didn't respond, he asked, "Can I get you anything?"

She shook her head. "I wish he didn't take my wand."

Draco didn't know how to respond to that. He leaned forward, digging his elbows into his knees. "Why did you do it?" He lowered his voice an octave; he wouldn't break in front of her.

She looked up, her lips pulled into a tight smile. Her face fell when she saw his emotionless expression.

"Granger, why the hell would you do that?" He folded his hands, biceps flexing.

Hermione's eyebrows pulled together. "Because I'm sick and tired of seeing the people I care about get hurt! I don't want _you_ to get hurt!"

He shook his head. "Don't ever do that again." He struggled to keep his voice even and calm.

"Why can't you ever just say 'thank you'?" Hermione bit out a dry laugh, jumping to her feet. "Honestly, how can you possibly be angry at me right now?"

"I'm not," he lied, standing up as well. He _was_ furious with her but not as furious as he was with the motherfucker who had cursed her. And nowhere near as furious as he was with himself, because if he were honest, he wasn't sure he would have done the same thing if their roles were reversed.

He looked down. The red marks that circled her wrists had faded into a pale pink. He reached for her hand and examined the welts. "What happened?"

"The Muggles they've recruited," she said, tensing up. "Pulled me away. They took my wand and bound me. Said they'd called the Minister... I suppose that's why the dementor was coming, to suck out my soul." With the hand that Draco wasn't holding, she reached for her opposite shoulder, covering up her chest. "He, um, he _touched_ me."

Draco looked up, confused. Then he noticed her self-protective posture, the wrinkles on her shirt, the crazed, frantic look in her eye. He let go of her hand as if it were a hot iron and took a step away from her, tucking his hands behind his back. His mouth went dry like he was trying to swallow cotton. "Hermione," he said. His hardened expression melted into one of sympathy. Her fingers twitched at her side and her shoulders were raised. He laced his fingers tightly together to keep himself from reaching out to her.

"I'm fine," she said quickly. "I'll be fine."

He knew she would be. She was strong. She'd always been strong. "Why don't you rest? I'll let McGonagall and Potter know-"

"No!" His breath hitched. He closed his eyes. "I don't want anyone to look at me differently, or... think any less of me." A tear leaked out of the inner corner of her eye. "I just-" She inhaled. Exhaled. "Will you stay with me?"

The question took him by surprise. "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Yes. Of course." He kicked off his boots and settled into the armchair. When he looked up at Hermione, she was in the bed, holding up the blankets. Inviting him. "Are you sure?" he asked.

She hesitated, and he immediately regretted asking.

Luckily, she nodded and he released a silent sigh of relief. Sliding into the bed next to her, he pulled the blankets up to her chin. She turned her back to him and he folded himself around her like an envelope. "Thank you. For saving me," he whispered into her hair, and fell asleep to the steady sound of her breathing.


	22. Chapter 22

_"Of course it's happening inside your head, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"_

—Albus Dumbledore

Draco woke up with a cat sitting on his face.

"You've got to get control over your animal, Granger," he muttered, pulling fur off his tongue. He pushed the cat off of him. Crookshanks settled into the space that Hermione used to occupy. She was gone. _Didn't think she was the type to spend a night with a bloke just to leave without saying goodbye in the morning_ , he thought.

He found her outside, with the rest of their former classmates. It was an overcast day; a welcome reprieve from the punishing heat they'd endured that summer thus far. She was standing between Harry and Ginny, waving her wand. A glowing blue otter danced around her. A Patronus. He'd known Potter and his friends could all cast one, but he'd never seen them do it in person. Ginny's horse galloped past Draco as he sat on the edge of the porch.

An otter wasn't the first animal he would have guessed for Hermione's Patronus, but he supposed it made sense. They were curious, friendly creatures. Loyal, too. 

Ginny nudged Hermione and nodded in Draco's direction. Hermione smiled and handed Harry back his wand. Harry expelled his Patronus, an elegant stag. Hermione laughed as the deer ran a circle around her. Draco stood as she approached.

"Hey," she said, as if everything was fine. As if she hadn't been tortured and violated less than 24 hours ago.

As if he hadn't spent last night tangled up in her legs and sheets like a fly in a spider's web.

"We're practicing for the dementors," she explained. Despite the purple shadows beneath her eyes, she seemed to be in a good mood. "Kingsley thinks there will be some at Hogwarts. Can you cast one?"

He ignored her question. "You're planning on going?" he asked. "Are you sure you don't want to sit this one out? We could stay here and work on destroying the Horcrux."

She shrugged. "Luna said I could use her wand."

"You know that's not what I meant."

She tucked her lips in and looked up at him. "If I stay here, I'm just going to think about it and cry and I am so damn sick of crying all the time. Besides, to destroy the Horcrux, we need the Sword of Gryffindor, which is still at Hogwarts."

His eyes flickered between her face and her wrists-- the Mudblood scar, her self-inflicted wounds, the marks from the handcuffs.

"Please don't try to talk me out of this. Harry beat you to it, anyway."

He sighed. "I'm not going to try to stop you." He reached for her hand, but clenched his fist and shoved it in his pocket before he touched her. "Just, do me a favor, Granger. No more of that goddamn self-sacrificial, Gryffindor bullshit. If anything goes wrong, promise me you'll get yourself out of there. Don't try to save the rest of us."

Her eyes lingered on his for a moment before she turned to the rest of her friends and looked at each of them. "I promise," she said with a sad smile. He knew she was lying. It was all empty words and hollow promises. But for the sake of his sanity, he let himself believe her.

➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶ ⚯͛ ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Hogwarts grew less and less familiar every time Hermione stepped on its grounds. She longed for the days when the castle was full of life and light and laughter. Now, the halls were catacombs. Cold as a grave, silent as a wraith.

She, Harry, and Draco were standing at the base of the Grand Staircase, waiting for McGonagall and Kingsley to return with Snape. The adults had made it abundantly clear that they were to remain out of sight unless a fight broke out.

Hermione rolled Luna's wand between her hands. It was longer than Hermione's and less flexible. It felt strange between her fingers, but it was better than anyone else's. McGonagall had assured her they would get her a new wand, one that chose Hermione, but it was impossible to tell when they would get an opportunity to see Ollivander.

"Do you think she'll remember to ask Snape about the Sword?" Hermione asked, pacing the small alcove where they were hidden.

"I don't know. You only reminded her about seventeen times," Draco said.

Hermione paused and glared at him. She turned to Harry. "Why don't you and I go to the Chamber of Secrets, just in case they don't have the Sword? There's bound to be more Basilisk fangs, right?"

"Let's worry about it if it comes to that," Harry said. He was holding the Maurader's Map in his hands, tracking McGonagall, Kingsley, and Snape.

 _Too late._ She was already worried. Why wasn't anyone else?

"They're coming," said Harry,

A grunt sounded from the top of the staircase. Hermione darted up the steps.

"Granger!" Draco hissed. He followed her and caught her by the elbow.

McGonagall appeared in front of them, with Kingsley and Snape close behind. The former Potions Master was limping. "Let's move quickly!" McGonagall said.

"What about the Sword?" Hermione asked.

"There's no time; Dolohov and Avery are right behind us," said Kingsley.

"Professor," she turned to Snape. "Do you know where the Sword is?"

"The Room of Requirement. I've made a potions laboratory there," Snape said, gasping on each word. He was injured, badly, but Hermione knew he was in good hands with the rest of them. She bounded up the stairs, casting a Disillusionment Charm over herself as she moved.

"Granger!" Draco said again, with a hand still on her sleeve.

"I'll meet you back at the house," she said, but when she looked over, she couldn't see him.

"I'm not letting you do this alone."

She bit back a smile, even though he couldn't see her. Threading her fingers through his, she pulled him through the hallway to the familiar tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

 _I need Snape's potion lab_ , she thought as she walked back and forth in front of the tapestry.

Draco led her through the heavy wooden door that appeared after her third trip. She saw it immediately; the silver, ruby-encrusted sword she'd carried across half of England earlier that year. Hermione and Draco dropped their Charms. Hermione shoved the Sword into her beaded bag. Draco was examining vials of potions.

"We should go," she said.

He picked up a few bottles. "Put these in your bag."

"We probably shouldn't steal from Professor Snape."

Draco shrugged and handed her a few more. "He can't come back here, now that they're planning on killing him. We might as well take them."

Hermione sighed and dropped his vials into her back. She wondered how many times they had just put things in her bag and then forgotten about it. _Tonight,_ she decided, _I'll sort through it._

When she looked up, Draco was rifling through cabinets. "Draco, let's go."

"One minute."

She looked around the room. Hermione hadn't had any nightmares for a while, but she supposed some Dreamless Sleep Potion wouldn't hurt if she could find any.

She eyed a wooden chest in the corner of the room. She knew she shouldn't, but maybe Draco was right. Snape couldn't come back anyway, and it held something important, he would want them to bring it back, right?

She held Luna's wand up to the lock. " _Alohamora._ " The lock clicked open.

A witch popped out, shrieking. A raven-haired, wild-eyed, witch. Bellatrix. _"You filthy little Mudblood!"_

Hermione cried out and shot backward, hitting her hips against the sharp countertop. _Not again. Not again. Not again._ Hermione felt her throat close and her lungs constrict. _Not this again._

She felt pressure on her shoulders. Draco. Everything would be fine as long as Draco was there. She opened her eyes. Bellatrix was gone. Instead, she saw... herself. Lying on the floor, her back arched, her face contorted in pain.

Draco had paled. He licked his lips. His hand was shaking. " _Riddikulus._ "

Hermione watched herself transform into Crookshanks. The fat cat was laying on his side, struggling to get to his feet. Draco let out a weak laugh, but it was enough to make the cat disappear. "Just a Boggart," he explained.

Hermione nodded, speechless. Draco looked around the room, at his feet, anywhere but Hermione. "Let's go."

Hermione nodded again. She cast another Disillusion Charm over herself before reaching for Draco's hand and following him out of the Room of Requirement.

"What do you mean _he got away?_ " A voice cried. Bellatrix. The real one. Draco's fingers tightened around Hermione's. She pulled him against the wall. "Maybe our message hasn't been strong enough.

"What do you suggest?" a raspy voice replied.

"Let's start with the thirty Muggles in Malfoy Manor. If they don't want to surrender Potter and Snape after that, we'll pull more from the streets." Hermione gripped Draco's elbow with her other hand as the voices faded.

"Come on," Draco whispered, pulling her down the stairs. She tripped on the bottom step, but Draco kept pulling her out of Hogwarts. She panted as she ran through the tall grass to Hogsmeade.

Harry would have an aneurysm if thirty Muggles died for him, and Hermione couldn't keep it from him.

They had no choice but to return to Malfoy Manor.


	23. Chapter 23

_"Honestly, if you were any slower, you'd be going backward."_

— Draco Malfoy

" _Expecto Patronum!_ " Draco said for the thirtieth time that evening.

"Are you sure you're thinking of your happiest memory?" Hermione asked.

"I don't have many options to pull from. What do you think of?"

They were, once again, sitting on the front porch. The rest of the Order was inside, healing Snape's injuries and cooking dinner.

Upon Hermione and Draco's return, Harry had, anticlimactically, stabbed Bellatrix's knife with the Sword and destroyed the Horcrux. No one was sure whether it was cause for celebration; for all they knew, Bellatrix had created ten more. They had no idea where to look next.

Afterward, Hermione had told them about the Muggles at Malfoy Manor and then promptly exited through the front door. And lately, it seemed, wherever she went, Draco followed, like magnets.

"The moment I realized Harry wasn't dead, usually," she said. "When I'm angry with Harry, I think about the day I got my O.W.L grades." Lately, she'd been thinking about the first night in Nottingham, when Draco showed her the stars.

Best to keep that one to herself, for now.

_"Expecto Patronum!"_

Nothing. He groaned and tossed his wand onto the porch, burying his hands in his hair. Hermione reached for it. " _Lumos_." She was unexpectedly delighted with how easily Draco's wand worked for her, almost as if it were her own.

"I don't want you to go to Malfoy Manor tomorrow."

The light on the end of his wand went out. "Oh," Hermione said.

Draco tucked his lips in and shook his head. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm-" He seemed to choke on the words. "I'm just worried about you and-- Oh, for Salazar's sake. If we're going to have this conversation, I'm going to need a drink."

Hermione grinned. She tugged open the screen door. " _Accio Firewhisky._ " A glass bottle full of amber liquid flew right into her open hand. She tossed him the bottle.

He threw back a mouthful and handed her back the bottle. "Oh, that's strong."

"Is this about the Boggart?" Hermione made a face as she swallowed her shot. She'd never had anything stronger than wine at Christmas. The way Charlie and Dean spoke about alcohol, she thought it would taste better.

"Yours or mine?" She raised an eyebrow at him. He sighed and dropped his chin. "Both, I guess." He looked up at the sky. It was twilight; the orange glow of the sun just visible on the horizon. Only the brightest stars were visible in the darkening sky. "You're important to me, Granger. And I never want to see you-- Why is this so hard?" He took another swig. "My father is rolling over in his grave right now."

"Because you're friends with a Mudblood?"

Draco flinched at the word. "It doesn't matter. Blood purity, I mean. I think I've known that since our first year when you came out top of the class in every subject. Pity _he_ never figured that out." He sighed. "But now my father is dead, Crabbe is dead. I don't know what happened to Pansy or Theo or Blaise. Right now, you are all I have. And if I can't keep you safe, I don't think I'll ever forgive myself."

Hermione let her shoulder bounce against his. Heat spread across her chest. "It's not on you to keep me safe."

He looked down at her, eyes wide, lips turned down. "Doesn't mean I won't try my hardest.

She took another sip of the Firewhisky. Was the porch swaying or was that just her? "I care about you too, Draco." _Way more than I should._ She brushed strands of blonde hair off of his forehead and smiled when they fell back exactly where they were. He caught her hand as she pulled it away, lacing their fingers together. She frowned at their intertwined hands, at his long, pale fingers. "Do you ever think about what could've happened if Voldemort had never come to power? If blood prejudice weren't a thing? You and I could've been friends a long time-"

His lips pressed against hers, interrupting her.

It was the briefest of kisses. Before Hermione even had time to register, Draco pulled away, retracting his hand from hers.

And when he did, the spaces between her fingers had never felt so cold. And his lungs had never felt so empty.

"I'm sorry." He blurted out. "I shouldn't have done that, after... yesterday. I'm sorry."

Hermione pressed her fingers to her lips and shook her head. "You apologize too much."

She grabbed hold of the front of his sweatshirt and pulled herself up to her knees. He mirrored her, gripping her waist. She knotted her fingers in his hair and crashed her lips to his.


	24. Chapter 24

_"I am what I am, an' I'm not ashamed. 'Never be ashamed,' my ol' dad used ter say, 'there's some who'll hold it against you, but they're not worth botherin' with.'"_

— Rubeus Hagrid

Draco pulled away first, pressing his forehead against Hermione's. His breathing was ragged, but he couldn't suppress his smile once he saw Hermione's.

"Took you long enough," Hermione teased.

Draco laughed and landed one more chaste kiss on her lips. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

The door behind them swung open and someone coughed. Draco fell back onto his heels. Hermione wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Hi, Harry," she said, not taking her eyes off of Draco. Harry stifled a laugh.

Draco had never wanted to sock Harry Potter in the nose more than he did at that moment.

"Ron's here. I thought you'd like to see him. But if you're busy, I can try to stall for you."

Draco chucked the bottle of Firewhisky at him.

Harry caught it and took a sip. He made a face. "You might want to hurry up, Hermione. I don't think he'll take this-" he waved his hand in front of him, "-very well." 

Hermione smiled apologetically at Draco.

"Go," he said. "I'm right behind you."

Harry helped Hermione to her feet. She swayed when she stood. _Lightweight,_ thought Draco.

"Potter," Draco said. "Leave the booze." Harry tossed him the bottle.

Draco looked at the sky as he took one more sip. He had either just made the best decision of his life or his worst mistake. Messaging his temples, he set the bottle down and stood up.

After walking through the front door, he was greeted with the sight of Hermione, with her arms wrapped around Ronald Weasley's neck. His face was buried in her shoulder. Draco rubbed his eye. He leaned against the wall, watching the reunion unfold before him.

The rest of the Order, save for Snape, was crowded in the foyer to greet Ron as well.

"I knew you'd come back," Hermione said.

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Hermione was still smiling the next morning. Just thinking about his mouth on hers, his hands on her waist, and in her hair, made her lose her breath.

She woke up curled on the short end of the sectional, with her head next to Draco's. He was snoring softly and a bit of drool was coming out of his mouth. She smoothed down a bit of his hair that was sticking up before sitting up and stretching. The rest of the room was still asleep.

She had kissed Draco Malfoy.

And he had kissed her back.

And she couldn't wait to do it again.

Harry and Ron were in the kitchen, still dressed in sweatpants and with bedhead.

With a small squeal, she wrapped an arm around each of her friends and squeezed. "Good morning!"

Harry snorted and handed her a cup of tea. "You're in a good mood."

She took a sip, ignoring the fact that it burnt her tongue. "I have a good feeling about today. The three of us are back together, we've destroyed a Horcrux, we got Snape out."

"Don't forget, Malfoy hasn't tried to kill you yet."

She flicked the top of Ron's head. "I think things are finally looking up."

"Speaking of Malfoy," Harry started.

_Don't say it. Don't say it._

It wasn't any of Ron's business, what she and Draco did in their free time, but Ron was one of her closest friends. His opinion mattered to her, but she wasn't quite ready to hear it yet. Besides, she was still waiting for a lecture about the fact that she'd slept with him.

Emphasis on _slept._

"You're going to need a wand if you're going to the Manor today."

Hermione heaved a sigh of relief. "Right. I'll ask Luna again."

One by one, their friends entered the kitchen for breakfast and tea. Harry and Ron gave their seats up Molly and McGonagall. Amidst the chaos of the crowd, Hermione filled up a mug of coffee and brought it to Draco.

He was sitting on the couch, lacing up his boots. As soon as he looked up, Hermione regretted coming in. It was all too... presumptive. Domestic, even.

Maybe last night was a mistake. They'd been drinking. Maybe he woke up hating himself for swapping salvia with the _filthy little Mudblood_.

He accepted the mug, took a sip, and made a face. "There's way too much sugar in this."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and reached for the cup. "Well if you don't want it-"

"I didn't say that." He pulled it out of reach and took another sip.

The crowd in the kitchen began pouring into the living room. Hermione took a seat next to Draco.

Kingsley stepped to the front and explained their plan. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny would extract Muggle prisoners and return them to Nottingham while the rest would distract the Death Eaters upstairs. Luna and Neville would stay behind with Snape to take care of any injuries the Muggles had sustained.

Ron was still wary of Draco's intentions. Harry, though he took every opportunity to make kissing faces at Hermione, seemed to keep Draco in his periphery.

"Hey," Draco said as he took her hand. "Be careful." She slung her beaded bag around her shoulders.

"I'm not the one who's going to be fighting." Ginny took Hermione's other hand.

He grimaced. "One can hope."

As if a hook were pulling at Hermione's bellybutton, she felt herself jolted through the air before landing on her feet in front of Malfoy Manor.

"The apparition wards are down," Draco observed when they landed inside the gates. The Death Eaters were getting cocky.

She let go of his hand and, after draping the Invisibility Cloak around herself, Ron, and Ginny, followed the group through the front door.

Once they were in the dungeon, Hermione cast _Muffliato_ on the entrance, to prevent the Death Eaters from hearing the sounds of their apparating. The spell wouldn't hold for long, as she would get exhausted after taking so many trips back and forth to Nottingham.

The rest of the Order was not to start throwing spells until the Death Eaters realized what was going on in the cellar, so it behooved Ron, Ginny, and Hermione to move as quickly and quietly as possible.

Hermione's heart sank to her knees as she counted the Muggles in the room. Twenty-three. Bellatrix had said there were thirty; seven were missing.

They were huddled against the wall, some crying, begging for their lives to be spared. "If we each take two at a time," Hermione said, doing the math in her head, "we can get them all out in 4 trips each."

"Ron? Hermione?"

Hermione's eyes widened as she peered around the corner. "Hagrid!" She ran over to the half-giant and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Back to save the day, are ya?"

"Always," Ron said, accepting a hug of his own.

"Let's go, Hagrid," Ginny said. She wrapped her hand around Hagrid's wrist and with a loud _crack_ , disappeared.

Hermione crouched in front of a small girl. Tears leaked out of her eyes and dirt was smudged on her face. "Hey, I'm going to get you out of here."

"Where's my daddy?" she cried.

Hermione looked up at Ron for help, but he was talking to an older couple.

"I don't know, honey, but we need to get you out of here." She held onto the little girl's hand and grabbed the hand of a teenage boy sitting next to her.

By her fourth apparition trip, Hermione's stomach was starting to move. Bracing her hand on the stone wall, she closed her eyes as she caught her breath.

"Alright, Hermione?" Ron asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She nodded weakly. "Yes. I just need a second."

A crash sounded above them. The faint echo of shouts and spells filled the cellar. "We have to move," said Ginny, who was looking pale.

"Okay. Just a few more," Hermione said to herself. She grasped the hands of the nearest Muggles and brought them to Nottingham.

The shouts were nearing the top of the stairs. She couldn't help but imagine the worst-case scenario. What would happen to Draco or Harry if Bellatrix got her hands on them?

Hermione pinched the skin on the inside of her forearm to keep her mind from wandering. She couldn't think about that now.

She apparated the last two Muggles back to Neville's house, leaving them in the care of Luna.

"We have to let them know that we got everyone out," Hermione said when Ron tried to keep her from returning to Malfoy Manor. "Otherwise it'll turn into a fight to the death."

Holding Luna's wand tightly in her hand, Hermione crept up the stairs. The battle was right on top of her. Her breath quickened. She knelt at the top of the stairs, peeking over the edge onto the floor. The Order was outnumbered by more than Hermione could count. Draco seemed to be holding his own, but it was only a matter of time before they started losing ground.

She held Luna's wand out in front of her. " _Protego!_ "

The shield would only last a moment.

Each member of the Order gathered behind Hermione's Charm. Hermione reached for Professor McGonagall's hand.

As Draco turned on the spot, the shield collapsed.

Bellatrix lunged forward, wand outstretched, and pointed at McGonagall. " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

The Order disappeared before Minerva's body hit the floor.


	25. Chapter 25

_"To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."_

― Albus Dumbledore

"We have to go back!" Hermione cried. "I'm going back!"

Draco caught her wrist. He deftly plucked Luna's wand from her clenched fist.

"What happened?" asked Ron, jogging down the front porch steps.

Harry tugged at his hair and crouched on the step. "McGonagall."

Ron's eyes shot to Hermione, filling with tears. She shook her head. "Give me that wand. I'm going back." She wrestled her arm away from Draco and shoved at his chest. He staggered backward.

His forehead creased as he reached for her again. She wiped at her tear-stained cheeks. "Granger." He took her hand. Her shoulders shook as she struggled against him, but he didn't let her go.

Pulling her small frame against him, he cast a pointed look at Harry.

Harry cleared his throat. He reached for Ginny's hand and patted Ron on the shoulder. "Let's go inside and see if Luna needs help with the prisoners."

A sob wracked Hermione's body. Draco tightened his arms around her.

Most of his interactions with McGonagall had resulted in him losing house points, but he still felt a dull ache at the loss of her. She'd been a steadfast presence; a beacon of hope, especially for Gryffindors. She'd become a mother to them.

"Please let me go back." The dull ache sharpened at the tone of her voice.

His hands found her face. "It won't make a difference." Her lips turned down and her chin trembled as she tried to suppress tears. He pressed her head into his chest and leaned his head on top of hers. "I'm so sorry, Granger." His voice cracked like splintered glass.

Some part of him wished they had never found Potter. The two of them could have been hiding in Grimmauld Place or on the mountainside in Snowdonia this whole time. Sure, she would have been miserable without her friends, but if he'd known the amount of pain she'd go through since reuniting with them, he would've tried harder to keep her away. He would've done more to keep her safe.

But he respected her enough to let her make the decisions she thought were best. In times like these, the sting of death was inevitable.

Her determination, her wit, her perseverance infuriated Draco at times, but they also filled him with a sense of pride. She had been through hell and back, and she would make the trip seven more times if she thought it would save just one person.

Thank Salazar she'd thought Draco was worth saving.

"We didn't finish the spell," she whispered.

Draco pulled back, loosening his grip on her. She kept one hand on his sleeve. "What?"

She shook her head, growing impatient. "The spell that we were going to create, to project the Death Eaters' memories. I can't do it alone."

"You're not alone."

She blinked. Those doe eyes were filled to the brim with tears and despair and fading hope. "I still have the Stone." She pulled her bag off of her shoulders and dumped the contents onto the grass. "How could I forget?"

"What are you talking about?" He dropped to his knees beside her.

"The Ressurection Stone! The reason I stayed at Hogwarts in the first place when Harry and Ron went ahead to Shell Cottage." She rifled through her belongings: books, potions, gum wrappers. Draco sorted through them, looking for anything he'd put in her bag and forgotten about. "I can bring her back, just long enough to complete the spell."

Draco froze. "You should ask Kingsley or Snape before you do anything..." He trailed off, distracted by a thin piece of wood. "Is that her wand?"

Hermione sat back on her heels, but leaned forward, hands braced on the ground, fingers curled around the soft grass. "Get Harry."

"I think she meant it for you. She must have dropped it in your bag before Bellatrix-"

"I don't want it. Please, get Harry." She ripped up handfuls of grass from their roots.

He was reluctant to leave her but knew Potter could help much more than he could at that moment. He scooped up the stone and returned to the house.

Apart from the occasional sniffle, it was silent inside as everyone healed injuries and fed the Muggle prisoners.

Harry was sitting beside Hagrid, comforting a little girl, who was in tears.

"Potter," Draco called from the threshold. He couldn't bring himself to enter the room. Not when his family had been the cause of so much of these people's pain and loss. Harry looked up, eyes bleary. It was difficult to recognize the same wide-eyed boy he'd met seven years ago at Hogwarts. "Hermione needs you."

Harry stood, wiping his hands on his jeans. He patted the girl on the back once more and strode toward the door. Ron shot up. Draco hadn't even seen him when he walked in.

He followed Harry. Draco stopped him with a hand on his chest. "She asked for Potter." It was petty, and Draco knew Hermione wouldn't object to Ron's presence. Still, rumors spread like wildfire at Hogwarts.

It wasn't that he was jealous of Weasley, but that didn't mean he was jumping out of his seat to get Ron and Hermione in a room together.

Ron glared at him and shoved Draco's hand away. "Fuck off, Malfoy."

Draco ground his teeth as he turned around. He debated staying inside; the three of them deserved some time alone. _Fuck it_ , he thought. They left her. He'd been the one who stayed with her, who had helped her find them, who had wiped her tears and comforted her.

 _He_ was the one who had made out with her the other night.

Yet she still asked for Potter and Weasley when she was upset.

He watched from a distance as they enveloped her and coaxed her into holding McGonagall's wand. A pit formed in his stomach.

Maybe he was jealous.

He hated that feeling. The violent insecurity. More than that, he was afraid of what it meant about his feelings for her.

They were friends, and he could use all the friends he could get. Granted, they'd kissed, but they'd both been drinking. She might've thought it was a mistake, kissing a former Death Eater.

The thought made the pit in his stomach sink.

The last thing he wanted to do was talk about it, but he knew he'd have to eventually.

Preferably, when Hermione stopped crying.

"I was standing right next to her," he heard her say. He snapped himself out of his reverie and jogged down the steps to where she was sitting in the grass. "It could've been me."

"She wouldn't want you thinking like that," said Ron.

"I guess we'll never know what she wanted unless we use the Stone," Hermione bit back.

"It won't really be her, though," Harry said. "It would be a cheap imitation."

Hermione pinched at her forearm.

"Hey, stop." Draco sat beside her and took her hand.

She eyed Ron and pulled her hand away from Draco. Wringing her hands, she asked Harry, "How is everyone inside?"

"They're shaken up, but everyone will be fine," said Harry. "We could use your help. You can try out that wand."

Draco tried not to be offended. He knew it was irrational, and Hermione would object, but he felt he had a claim over her. After everything they'd been through, there was some part of Hermione that only Draco would understand.

That understanding forced Draco to reconcile with the fact that that meant Ron and Harry had just as much of a right to her.

Growing up as an only child, the sole heir to his father's expansive estate, Draco wasn't used to sharing. His instinct was to walk away. If he couldn't have all of her, he didn't want any of her.

Unfortunately for him, he'd spent the past few years drowning. And now that she'd pulled him out from beneath the waves, it'd be impossible to submit to the undertow again.

Even if that meant he couldn't keep her all to himself.

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McGonagall's wand did not want to cooperate with Hermione. She was lucky she'd had the common sense to try a few charms on herself before attempting to heal the Muggles. It was worse than Ron's broken wand in their second year. So she left the wand in her bag and, per Molly's request, resigned herself to the kitchen to bring food to the Muggles.

"How long will they be here?" Hermione asked Molly. There were too many people in the house. Every time Hermione returned to the living room, her palms grew sweaty and her heartbeat was so fast, she thought it would crack her ribs. As much as she wanted to help them, she didn't know them, and therefore, couldn't trust them.

"They'll hopefully be gone soon," Molly sighed, handing her another plate of food. "Kingsley and Snape will Obliviate them when they're healed, and then Arthur, Bill, and I will start taking them back to their homes."

Hermione brought the plate out to the little girl she'd first spoke to at Malfoy Manor.

She looked for Draco. He and Snape were making their way around the room, giving healing and sleep potions to those who needed them. She tried to catch his attention, but he kept his focus away from her.

Like he was avoiding her.

 _Fine_ , she thought and returned to the kitchen, looking for a way to keep her mind off of him.


	26. Chapter 26

_"The truth. It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution."_

—Albus Dumbledore

Being kind was exhausting.

Draco had spent the rest of the afternoon spoon-feeding weak prisoners, pouring potions down their throats, and _Obliviating_ them. He'd paired himself with Snape and felt the need to overcompensate for the Potion Master's brusque nature with uncharacteristic charisma.

Now, all he wanted to do was take a hot shower and sleep for a decade and a half.

Unfortunately, he knew he wouldn't sleep for a second without talking to Hermione.

"Have you seen Granger?" he asked Luna, who was sitting on the couch with Neville and Crookshanks.

Luna was the only one in the house, save for Snape and Hermione, who didn't flinch every time he entered a room.

"She's outside with Harry and Ron," said Luna. He mumbled his thanks. "Draco?" He halted. "You can be honest with her."

He blinked but didn't say anything else.

He stepped into the cool night air. Draco used to find solace in the quiet of the night. Lately, though, he'd felt more than enough darkness.

The trio was perched on the back porch, laughing. It was a pleasant surprise. Draco had expected them to be in mourning for at least another month.

"Your turn, mate," Ron said, handing a bottle to Harry. "Truth or dare?"

Harry hummed. "Dare."

"Ooh, can I pick it this time?" Hermione asked.

"No. Your dares are always lame."

"They are not!"

"Granger," Draco interrupted. Hermione's face shot up. Her face split into a grin and a weight lifted off of Draco's shoulders. "Take a walk with me."

She pursed her lips and glanced at Harry as she stood. "I'll be right back. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Harry poked her thigh. "I could say the same to you."

She stood and bumped her shoulder against Draco's. He wished she weren't wearing a sweater so he could feel her bare skin against his.

And then he felt embarrassed for thinking that. "I missed you," she said.

He looked down at her, eyebrows raised. "I saw you a few hours ago." His eyes drifted to her lips. Lower. To her chest.

His frustration with her sweater grew. He could only imagine that soft curve of her breast, the taper of her waist. It was June; what the fuck did she need a sweater for anyway?

His pants felt tighter. He cleared his throat as he took a step back. _Not the_ fucking _time, Malfoy._

"I know." She looked down. "But you seemed mad at me."

He clenched his fist, unsure if he should take her hand or wrap an arm around her shoulders.

Not until they were out of Ron and Harry's line of sight. "Right, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I think-"

"We're walking towards the woods." She pointed to the line of trees behind the house.

He furrowed his brow. Was the Gryffindor scared? He doubted there were werewolves or dragons in the thin stretch of forest in this Muggle development. "Yeah, is that okay?"

She wiggled her eyebrows. "Well, you know what happens in the woods."

He pulled away from her. "Are you drunk?"

"Just a bit." She held her thumb and forefinger up, a centimeter apart. "So, if we do go into the woods, you can't take advantage of me." She giggled and moved her finger so it wiggled in circles around his nose. "Okay, you can take advantage of me a little."

Draco sighed and ran a hand over his face. He placed a hand on each of her shoulders and gently turned her around. "Alright, let's get you home."

"But no butt stuff!"

"Please be quiet."

She giggled again.

Draco heard a branch crack. He paused, instinctively reaching for Hermione's hand. Then silence. It must have just been a deer or something.

She intertwined their fingers and tapped Draco's knuckles. "Draco?" Hermione asked.

"Hm?" He scanned the treeline for threats, savoring the feeling of her small hand in his.

"I really liked kissing you."

His breath caught. Slowly, he turned to face her. The splash of freckles across her nose was barely visible in the dark. She looked pale in the moonlight, like a ghost. But her eyes were brighter, and more alive, than ever.

 _She's drunk,_ he thought. _It doesn't mean anything._

"Maybe we should save this conversation for when you're sober," he muttered, smoothing down a stray curl. He knew he was being a hypocrite. After all, he'd asked for alcohol before he could say anything kind to her.

And when _he_ was drunk, he meant every word he said.

"I don't think I'll be brave enough to say this when I'm sober." She took a deep breath. When she closed her eyes, she started swaying. Draco placed his hands on her shoulders to steady to her. Her eyes shot open. "I want to kiss you again. Whenever I want. And I think I want to be the only person you kiss."

A smirk played at Draco's lips. "That's an interesting proposition."

Hermione swatted at his chest. "Don't tease me!"

At least she was sober enough to detect social cues.

"For what it's worth, I also enjoyed kissing you. Immensely," he said. "Let's plan to do it again sometime."

She pulled at the collar of his shirt and stood on the tips of her toes, pulling him down to her. "You reek of Firewhisky," he said, right before their lips could meet. She recoiled with a pout. He chuckled and pressed his lips to her forehead.

"That doesn't count."

He leaned down to peck her cheek, and at the last minute, she turned and caught his lips. He bowed his head and took a step back, breaking off the kiss. Her face went slack as she searched his face. Her shoulders dropped and curled inwards. Her eyes were dark pools of disappointment.

He hated that he'd been the one to break away from her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He shook his head, heart sinking to his knees as his head filled with air.

He hated it even more that she thought he _wanted_ to stop. "Please don't apologize."

She was intoxicated. It wouldn't be right.

More than that, selfish as it was, he didn't think he'd be able to stand it if they kissed and she didn't remember it the next day. Even worse, what if she woke up and regretted it?

Another branch snapped behind the curtain of trees, followed a rustle of leaves. " _Lumos_ ," he murmured as took a small step forward.

He was being paranoid. They were in a Muggle neighborhood. Animals lived in the woods. Teenagers did drugs and had sex in the woods. There was a myriad of explanations.

Yet, Draco couldn't shake the persistent feeling that something was very wrong. His mind raced. Hermione didn't have a wand. Even if she did, she was too inebriated to be much help in a battle. If he told her to run back to the house to get Snape, there was a chance she'd be jumped.

A shadow darted across the tree line. Once again, Draco reached for Hermione's hand and stepped in front of her.

"Your hands are cold," she whispered and rubbed both of her hands over his.

He felt himself getting hard again.

 _Why does this happen at the worst times?_ he thought. _Focus, Malfoy._

"You're here with the _Mudblood?_ " a familiar voice called out from the darkness.

Draco took a step back, pulling Hermione with him.

He felt her fingers rip away from his. He clenched his fist, grasping blindly at thin air. " _Petrificus Totalus_ ," he yelled to the darkness.

Draco turned, frantically searching for her, wand outstretched.

A gasp drew his attention behind him, to Hermione. A masked figure held a knife to her throat.

"You've gone soft, mate." A tall figure stepped out from the shadows and into the moonlight. _Blaise Zabini._


	27. Chapter 27

_"The ones who love us never really leave us."_

—Sirius Black

"Let her go," Draco said, arming his tone with a steely indifference. In reality, he felt like he had barbed wire around his neck like a noose, but he'd spent enough time with Voldemort to know he could never show weakness.

"We've been looking for you for almost two months," Blaise said. He jabbed his wand in Hermione's direction. "Has the Order kidnapped you?"

Hermione let out a whimper. "Do you have him under the Imperius Curse?" the figure holding her asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No! Please, let me go!"

" _Confringo!_ " Draco pointed his wand at the masked figure.

They blocked it easily. "Come on, Draco. We don't curse our friends." They pulled their mask off. Pansy _fucking_ Parkinson.

"If we were friends, you'd let her go."

"I can't believe you ditched us to fuck a Mudblood," Pansy said, but she lifted the blade from Hermione's neck and loosened her grip. Hermione took the opportunity to push away from her.

 _Go back_ _to_ _the house, dumbass_ , he wanted to shout at her when she returned to him, but he couldn't deny the relief that deluged him as she tucked herself into his side.

"Don't call her that," Draco said, exasperated. He lowered his wand but kept it at his side. "How did you find me?"

Blaise held up a wand. Hermione's wand. " _Priori Incantato_ ," he explained. "It showed us where you last apparated from. We're not the only ones who know. We're only a few steps ahead of them; it's only a matter of time before they find you."

"We have to move. Now," Pansy added, reaching for his hand.

Hermione's eyes darted between the three Slytherins. "Wait. I have to tell Harry," she said, her words slurring.

Pansy glared at her. "I apologize," she said, in a sickly-sweet tone laced with venom. "When I said 'we', I didn't mean you." She held out her hand again. "Draco. Let's go."

He hesitated, looking at Hermione. Her fingers curled around the hem of his shirt.

She looked up at him, eyes flooded with a simple plea.

"Join the Order," Draco suggested to his friends. Hermione stilled.

"To be tortured for information and then sent off like a lamb to the slaughter?" Pansy scoffed. "No thanks. _Obliviate_ the Mudblood and get the fuck out before Bellatrix shows up. We can tell her you were under _Imperio._ "

His arm tightened around Hermione. She was drunk, exhausted, grieving, and in no position to make an informed decision for herself.

Leaving her wasn't an option, but if he stayed without Pansy and Blaise, they could tell Bellatrix that he'd been kidnapped and threatened, which would put Hermione and the Order in danger. It wasn't his place to extend invitations to the Order, but if Pansy and Blaise were truly loyal to Bellatrix, they wouldn't have gone through so much trouble to warn him about her.

Hermione had taken the risk to trust him. He could extend the same courtesy to Blaise and Pansy.

"Where are you planning on going? You can't go back to Bellatrix," Draco said.

Blaise shrugged. "My grandparents have an abandoned estate up in the Highlands we can camp out in."

"Brilliant. Big enough to house the entire Order?"

Pansy shook her head vehemently. "No. That's not the deal, Malfoy. Us or them."

Hermione shivered and leaned into his side.

Draco didn't know when everything had changed, but he knew he would pick her, every single time.

"What's your plan, then? Just wait out there until we die of old age?" he demanded.

"We're just trying to stay alive," Blaise said.

"Then help us." Blaise and Pansy exchanged uncertain glances. Draco sighed. "There are things worse than death. This will never end until we burn them all down." Swallowing his pride was as easy as swallowing a handful of nails. "Please. Help us." For all the times Blaise and Pansy had heard Draco use that word, he might as well have been kneeling before them, begging for their help.

Blaise clenched his jaw. "If we get killed protecting the fucking Mudblood, I'm coming back as a ghost and haunting both of you for the rest of eternity."

"Please don't," Hermione squeaked.

"He's kidding." Draco rolled his eyes. He held his hand out to Blaise. "Thank you."

Blaise took it. "Don't thank me until it's over. Meet us there: Zabini Manor in Aberdeen."

He and Pansy gripped hands and turned around, vanishing into midair.

Hermione was still swaying on her feet. "Let's go try to convince Potter to trust the Slytherins," he said, reaching for her hand. He didn't know how much time they had before the Death Eaters arrived, but he figured it was safest to keep her within arm's reach, in case it happened sooner than later.

Not to mention, he liked the feeling of her warm fingers between his. But that was beside the point.

"You should take a nap when we get there," Hermione said, using her free hand to graze the thin skin right below his eyes. "You look exhausted."

He sighed. " _You_ exhaust me, Granger." He brought their conjoined hands to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand. The gesture was unexpectedly romantic, and he marveled at how easy it was. She giggled and leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked back to the house.

He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. She'd always been easy to be around. Even when they hadn't gotten along, it was amusing to argue with her. She was intelligent and opinionated, easy to rile up. Now that they were close, he'd seen how good and pure she was. How she always tried to see the best in people, how she'd do anything to protect her friends.

And somehow, after years of hating her, she'd come to occupy every spare corner of his mind.

"Harry! Ron!" She detached her hand from Draco's as she saw her friends and sprinted toward them. "Death Eaters are coming, we gotta go 'fore they get us." She blinked, struggling to keep her eyes open.

Harry and Ron, while not as far gone as Hermione, were far from sober.

"But we already killed Voldemort!" Harry said.

Draco groaned. "Where is Snape?"

"What is going on?" a deep drawl asked from behind them.

Draco spun on his heel. "Professor, Zabini and Parkinson have just informed me that-"

"I am no longer your professor, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco dug his fingers into his palms. _Semantics_. Their lives were at stake. Why was Snape taking the time to correct him? "Sir, Bellatrix and the Death Eaters are on their way. We have to get out of here immediately." A small crowd had formed on the back porch. Maybe it was just him, but Draco felt the warm summer air drop a few degrees. A new sense of urgency rushed through his veins. "Everyone! Grab what you need and apparate to Zabini Manor in Aberdeen!" he called. "Death Eaters are on their way."

Surprisingly, none of the Order members questioned him. Arthur and Molly took the bottle away from Ron-- _they should ha_ _ve_ _done that an hour ago_ \-- and helped them back into the house. Luna and Ginny reached out to Hermione. "She's fine. I've got her," Draco brushed them off. "What do you need from the house?" he asked her. She followed Harry and Ron with her eyes, then looked up at the sky. He snapped his fingers. "Granger, focus."

She brought her gaze down from the gray clouds rolling in from the east. "Just my bag." She flinched at the _cracks_ of apparition happening around them. "And Crookshanks."

That fucking cat.

"Weasley," Draco called to Bill, who was preparing to leave with Fleur. "Take Hermione."

"What? No!" Hermione clutched Draco's hand with both of hers. "I want to stay with you."

 _She gets whiny when she's drunk_. "Fine," he relented. It would be too much of a waste of time to sit here and argue with her. He handed her his wand. "Wait right here while I get your bag. If anyone shows up, apparate to Zabini Manor in Aberdeen."

He didn't know what he would do without his wand if Bellatrix came, but that worry didn't linger in his mind.

"Mabini Zanor in Aberdeen," she said. "Got it."

 _Brilliant._ "Yeah, okay. Don't move, I'll be back in a moment." His confidence waned.

With one more glance over his shoulder, Draco bounded into the house. Another deafening _pop_ echoed in his ears. Hermione's bag was tossed haphazardly over the arm of the couch, half unzipped.

 _It's like she's asking for someone to dig through her stuff,_ Draco thought. Then again, she had no reason _not_ to trust these people. He dumped the few belongings he'd acquired into her bag.

Next, he had to find the cat.

Maybe he could leave the cat and _Obliviate_ Hermione into forgetting she ever had one.

The second the thought crossed his mind, a flash of orange raced across the room and through the open back door.

As long as he didn't have to touch it.

He moved to follow Crookshanks when a door slammed upstairs. He paused. Why did he pause? He should have gotten outside, to his wand and Hermione, and left Nottingham behind.

But the footsteps that raced down the wooden stairs didn't sound heavy or sinister.

He turned around, clenching his fists at his side. It felt strange; childish, but he didn't have his wand and he wasn't sure how to defend himself from across the room.

"Don't forget this."

It was the little girl-- the one he'd seen Harry and Hagrid talking to earlier. She stood across from him, eyes wide, cheeks wet with tears, knees turned inward as she trembled.

His chest deflated in immediate relief, but tensed again when he realized the implications.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked. It was irrational to interrogate a six-year-old, especially when a real threat could appear at any moment, but he couldn't help but be skeptical.

She took a tentative step forward and reached out her arm, offering a wand. McGonagall's wand. _What was_ a Muggle _doing with a wand?_

Draco snatched the wand away from her, rolled it over in his fingers, and tucked it into his pocket. He nodded towards the backdoor. "Let's go."

The young girl hesitated, tucking her hands behind her back and shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"Or you can stay here and be brutally murdered," Draco said and strode through the doorway, anxious to return to Hermione.

He didn't have to look back to know the girl was right behind him. His honesty may have been harsh, but it was effective. Draco should know; it was a tactic his father used often.

But his father never would have saved a Muggle girl.

Or kissed a Muggleborn, for that matter.

"What's that?" Hermione asked when they emerged from the house.

Draco reached for her hand, plucking his wand from her. "Let's worry about that tomorrow." He clenched a fist around her wrist and gripped the little girl's shoulder.

They left Nottingham behind with no intention of coming back.


	28. Chapter 28

_"Have a biscuit, Potter."_

—Minerva McGonagall

"I am never drinking again," Hermione said after waking up in an unfamiliar room. She vaguely remembered leaving Nottingham, but she vividly remembered her depraved, embarrassing conversation with Draco. She didn't, however, remember consenting to sleep in the same room as Draco.

Judging by the pile of blankets on the ground, he'd slept on the floor. And while Hermione appreciated the gesture, she would have appreciated waking up with his arms around her even more.

"Afraid that if you drink enough, you'll actually want to try "butt stuff'?" Draco said, making air quotes with one hand and holding out a cup of tea in the other.

She groaned and pulled a pillow over her head. " _Obliviate_ me, please."

Draco laughed and pulled the pillow away from her. She took the mug of tea from him. After a sip, she felt pressure on the back of her throat. Thrusting the hot cup back into his hands, she darted to the bathroom and emptied her guts into the toilet. Her bare knees dug into the tile as she retched. Draco sighed and set the mug down on the nightstand. He knelt beside her and wrangled her curls out of her face, flinching at the vile smell.

When she finished, she rested her forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet.

"Better now?" he asked, rubbing circles on her back. 

"My head hurts," she complained.

He leaned against the wall and stretched his feet out. She crossed her legs and turned to face him.

He reached out. Hermione thought he was going to touch her face, but instead, he rubbed a finger over her neck, where Pansy held her knife. The knife hadn't cut through her skin, but Pansy's rough grip had left bruises across Hermione's neck and shoulder. "I'm sorry about Parkinson," he said, his voice dropping.

Hermione shrugged. "My friends have done worse to you."

"They've also saved my life more times than I can count, at this point." He conjured a glass from thin air and filled it with water from the sink.

"Let's just call it even." She reached for the glass. "It's really lucky that they were able to find us."

He hummed in agreement. "Yeah, they tracked us using your wand."

Hermione nearly shattered the glass as she stood. She set it on the sink. "My wand?" She strode toward the door.

"Granger, wait." Draco wrapped a hand around her elbow and pulled her back to him. She placed both hands on his chest to steady herself, closing her eyes.

"I feel like I'm going to vomit. Again," she said.

"You should probably stick to butterbeer for now," he said. He guided her back to bed and tucked her in. "Get some rest. I will get your wand."

As he moved to leave, she claimed his hand and gave it a squeeze before he left her.

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"Have you gone mad?" Blaise asked. Draco yawned. He hadn't slept a wink. After putting Hermione to bed, he'd helped every member of the Order find a suitable bedroom in Zabini Manor, and then passed the little girl off to Molly and Arthur. By the time he settled in for the night, the sun was cresting over the horizon, and Hermione was throwing up everything she'd eaten the previous day.

Draco sat at the kitchen table, hands fisted in his hair, looking between Pansy, Blaise, and Theo. "What exactly are you referring to?"

Theo scoffed. "Let's start with the fact that you're friends with Harry Potter."

"I am not friends with Potter," Draco said. He poured himself a cup of coffee.

"But you're working for the Order?" Pansy asked.

"What other options do I have? Work for Bellatrix after she killed my father?"

Theo stood. "I cannot believe you dragged us into this."

"I'm not dragging you into anything. We'll be out of here in a few days--"

"We?" Pansy asked.

"He's not going to leave his fuckbuddy," Blaise muttered. "They shared a bedroom last night." The door swung open behind them.

"You're fucking the Mudblood?" Theo exclaimed.

"You're doing _what?_ " Weasley asked, stepping through the threshold.

Draco clenched the hot mug in his fist. "Don't call her that." He rubbed a hand over his face. "What Hermione and I do is none of your business," he said, glaring at Ron. "Perhaps instead of worrying about my personal life, we could focus on figuring out if Bellatrix has created any other Horcruxes."

"Draco, you're going to get yourself killed," Pansy said, her voice weighted with melancholy.

"Not if I kill her first."

"I'm sorry, can we go back to the part about you and Hermione?" Ron asked.

"Go ask her about it," Draco instructed, growing impatient with Ron's presence.

"This isn't our war to fight," Theo argued. "We're barely of age. Why is it our responsibility to right the wrongs of our parents?"

"It shouldn't be," Draco agreed, "but don't you want to be remembered for something other than losing house points and shagging girls?"

They dropped into an uncomfortable silence. The only noise came from Pansy slurping her coffee.

"I'll help you," Blaise finally said.

Four pairs of eyes shot to him. "Really?" Ron asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. _What was Weasley still doing here?_

"If you think you can end this war, I'll join you," Blaise continued, speaking to both Draco and Ron now. Pansy and Theo exchanged looks before following Blaise's lead.

"You owe me. Big time," Pansy said with a sigh and a faint smile.

Draco nodded, flooded with unexpected relief as Pansy handed him Hermione's wand. "We'll go to the Leaky Cauldron when this is over. Shots on me."

Theo snorted. "You're buying me shots until we're thirty, mate."

Draco shook his head, but acquiesced with a scoff. Theo would almost certainly forget soon enough.

He exited the kitchen to return to Hermione, with Ron hot on his heels. "What do you want, Ronald?" Draco's voice echoed in the empty marble hallway. He held Hermione's wand with both hands.

"I want to see Hermione."

Frustration rose up the back of Draco's neck. "She's not feeling too well, but I will be sure to let her know you stopped by," he said, stopping outside Hermione's room.

"Shove off, Malfoy." Ron attempted to push past him, but Draco gripped the brass doorknob, blocking him.

"If you're just going to go in there and lecture her about spending so much time with me, it can wait until after her headache is gone and she can keep some food down."

"The whole point of the lecture is to stop her from spending the entire morning with you."

The door was pulled out from Draco's grip, and he collapsed against the heavy wooden panels. Hermione stood in the doorframe, rubbing her eyes. Her hair was in a bun atop her head and she was dressed only in an oversized t-shirt. A line of crusted drool ran from her lip to her chin. "Stop shouting." She trudged back to bed and tucked herself back in, almost disappearing in the nest of blankets and pillows. "How are you not hungover?" she asked Ron.

"Practice," he shrugged, following her into the room and settling on the side of her bed. Draco leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "Can I get you anything?"

She shook her head, flinching at the sudden movement. "Did you need me for something?"

"Hm? Oh, no I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Draco clenched his fists. Ron had woken Hermione up, and wasn't even going to follow through with the mission he'd set out for.

Hermione's eyes fluttered closed. "Okay. I'm going back to bed."

Draco kicked off from the wall as Ron stood.

"Draco has your wand," Ron said. Draco closed his eyes.

"You have no tact," he muttered as Hermione shot up. She immediately groaned and massaged her temples. "Granger, go back to sleep. Your wand will be here when you wake up."

"Give it to me," she said. "Please."

Draco sighed and pressed the supple wood into her hand.

"How did Blaise get it?" she whispered.

The tip of it lit without Hermione saying a word. "I don't know. Don't worry about it."

"Do you think he killed the Muggle that stole it?"

Ron inhaled sharply.

"Granger, it doesn't matter," he said, his voice leaking with irritation. At this point, he didn't know if he was annoyed at Ron's presence, or Hermione's dissent, or his own lack of sleep.

"It matters to me."

"For _fuck's_ sake, Hermione, who cares?" Draco shouted. Hermione gathered the blankets to her chest as she curled her knees into her chest and leaned against the headboard. "He fucking deserved to die after what he did to you!"

"Hey, you don't have to yell at her," said Ron, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not--" Draco sat at the edge of the bed, knotting his fingers in his hair. His elbows dug into his knees. He let out a shaky breath as he regained his composure.

"Zabini did what he had to do," Ron said. Draco released his hair and slowly looked up at the redhead. "If he hadn't, we could have been slaughtered last night."

Hermione stared at her wand, unblinking and unmoving, save for the steady rise and fall of her chest. "They tracked us with _Priori Incantato_?"

Draco nodded.

"Where's McGonagall's wand?" Hermione threw the blankets off of her and stood. She pressed a hand to her mouth, like she was suppressing bile.

"Sit down," Ron said, pushing down on her shoulders and Draco rummaged through Hermione's beaded bag.

"Give me one of the Death Eater's memories as well," she ordered.

Draco handed her a vial of silvery-blue liquid and McGonagall's fir wand. Hermione uncapped the bottle and held up Minerva's wand, praying that it would comply. " _Priori Incantato_ ," she whispered, forcing as much power into her soft words as she could muster.

Hermione's lips parted in disbelief as the blank wall opposite her filled with moving images. It was one of Bellatrix's memories. Hermione saw herself on the floor, Bellatrix carving the slur into her wrist. She saw Bellatrix cast a Stunning Spell at Sirius Black right before he died.

"She did it," Hermione whispered. "We can prove to the Muggles that Bellatrix and the Death Eaters aren't who they say they are."

She met Draco's eyes. He cracked a smile.

For the first time in months, he saw a flicker of hope on his horizon.

For the first time since he'd laid eyes on her, he felt he might have a future with her.


	29. Chapter 29

_"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."_

— Harry Potter

" _Proiectura_ ," Hermione repeated slowly.

A chorus of whispers erupted around her as each member of the Order, as well as Draco and Theo, practiced the spell. So far, only Snape, Kingsley, and Harry had mastered McGonagall's spell. Hermione was trying to keep her patience, but there was a reason Harry had been the one to lead Dumbledore's Army.

"Try tightening your wand movements," she suggested to Theo, demonstrating for him.

"Where are Pansy and Blaise?" Theo asked Draco, ignoring Hermione.

"In the shower, probably" Draco muttered.

"Both of them? Lucky bastards," Theo said.

Hermione sighed and moved to assist Luna and Neville.

"Nott! Malfoy!" Snape snapped.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Draco pale and fumble with his wand.

"Pay attention," Snape said.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from smiling.

"Yes, sir," Draco grumbled.

As soon as Snape turned his back, Theo elbowed Draco in the ribs and made a face, turning his lips down in a hyperbolic imitation of Snape.

Draco pursed his lips as his shoulders shook with silent laughter.

Hermione turned away. She was thrilled that he was reunited with his friends. She remembered how relieved she'd felt when she had first laid eyes on Harry and Ron at Shell Cottage, the rush of air in her lungs after she'd felt like she'd been holding her breath for so long; she hoped Draco felt the same way. Still, the fear of change lingered.

Draco had somehow become the person she trusted most. He could never replace Ron or Harry as her best friend, but over the past few weeks, he had comforted her, protected her, and cared for her in a way that Ron and Harry never had.

Selfishly, she wasn't ready to give that up.

Childish and irrational as it might have been, she didn't want to share his attention, yet, here he was, joking with Theo instead of focusing on her lesson.

And now that they were so close to exposing the Death Eaters' true intentions to the Muggles, what would happen next? Would Draco and Hermione go their separate ways with their separate friend groups?

"Hermione!"

She spun around to see Ron with a small, holographic image in front of him. It was a memory of his own. She saw herself, along with Ron and Harry, at the Burrow over the summer holidays. "Well done, Ronald!" she exclaimed, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

"Luna's got it, too!" Neville called.

Hermione looked over at the memory Luna had projected, of her and Harry at Slughorn's Christmas party.

"Fantastic work, everyone!" Hermione said, relieved to be able to call it a day. "Keep practicing."

She pocketed her wand as everyone stood to leave.

"We'll go to London tomorrow," Kingsley said.

Hermione froze.

"Tomorrow?" Theo echoed.

"We need to end this," Kingsley said by way of dismissing them.

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Draco had almost forgotten about the little girl he'd brought from Nottingham.

She was sitting at the long dining table, between Luna and Harry, shoveling spaghetti into her mouth. She tugged on Harry's shirt when Draco entered the dining room, pointing at him. Harry frowned and whispered something into the girl's ear. She giggled.

Draco scanned the crowded room. Hermione was nowhere to be seen.

"The Order is recruiting children now?" Pansy asked, voice prickly. She'd been in a bad mood since Theo and Draco interrupted her afternoon with Blaise to teach them _Proiectura,_ per Snape's orders.

"She's a Muggle," Draco explained. "One of Bellatrix's prisoners. She was meant to have been returned to her family."

Pansy groaned and leaned her head on Draco's shoulder. "I can't believe we're about to try to fight Bellatrix Lestrange."

Draco looked down at her. "We don't know that she'll be there tomorrow."

"She has eyes everywhere. She'll be there the second she hears about it."

"We'll watch each other's back," Draco said.

Pansy lifted her head. "I don't trust them."

"You don't have to, but they'll do their best to protect you, no matter what you've done."

"And I suppose they'll expect the same of me?"

Draco rolled his eyes and spun on his heel, anxious to get back to Hermione.

"Hey." Pansy wrapped her hand around Draco's elbow and pulled him back. "She better be worth it."

'It' could have meant any number of things.

Hermione was worth them all.

He found her in the bedroom they'd shared, sitting on the edge of the bed, a blue hologram before her. She looked up as he entered. His presence shattered her concentration, and the holographic memory faded.

He shut the door softly behind him. "Have you been practicing all evening?"

She nodded. "I need to make sure it's perfect because if anything goes wrong tomorrow, I don't know what I'll do-" She cut herself off with a deep breath. "Yes."

"Are you nervous?" he asked, sitting down beside her.

"I can't freeze up again if she shows up. And call me crazy, but I'd really rather not be hit by the Cruciatus Curse again. Or anyone else for that mat-"

He interrupted her by pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was slow, deliberate, but Draco still felt the need to assert his dominance. He swiped his tongue across her bottom lip. She pulled away, biting her lip.

"How about now?" he asked.

Her fingers pinched her lips. "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you or Harry or Ron."

He kissed her again. This time, with an urgent, fiery passion. He should have been touched that she cared enough about him to consider his safety on the same level as her best friends', but at the moment, he was desperate to get the taste of their names off of her tongue. He never wanted her thinking about them right after kissing him.

Her kisses were reluctant at first, as she struggled to keep up, but soon she was pushing back with force to match Draco's. She dug her fingers into his back as his hands went to her waist. She moaned when he moved away from her lips, trailing kisses across her jaw, down her neck, into the valley between her breasts.

She curled her fingers around the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head. Pulling herself up to her knees, she straddled him and brought her hands to his face. He felt himself hardening, twitching in excitement. She smiled against his lips as he pressed into her.

"Don't tease me," he whispered, slipping a hand underneath her shirt.

"I would never." She broke the kiss for a brief moment to pull her shirt off. He marveled at the perky, full breasts in front of him. His eyes drifted to her stomach, where dozens of crescent-shaped scars littered her soft skin. He clenched his jaw. She placed a finger under his chin, bringing his focus back to her face. "I want you."

He pulled himself out of his reverie, placing another hard kiss on the tender skin between her neck and shoulder. He dragged his tongue along her collarbone before sucking on her soft flesh. She let out a squeak, before she reached for his pants, fumbling with the zipper. He stopped her with a hand on her wrist. "Are you sure?"

She took her time meeting his gaze. Draco held his breath as her eyes traced the length of his body, lingering on his chest, his lips, and finally, his eyes.

"As long as you are," she whispered.

He couldn't help the smile that split across his face as he searched her eyes. He'd never given any thought to her sexual history. In school, he assumed she'd been too preoccupied with books and studying to pay any mind to boys. Not to mention, she'd spent most of her time cleaning up Potter's messes.

She hadn't been invisible though. In their sixth year, Draco knew, there had been more than a few boys who had their eyes on her.

He tugged his pants off and crashed his lips to hers again, desperate for physical contact. She laughed as she struggled with her own pants.

She'd had the opportunity to do this with other people, but kneeling on the bed before him, half-naked, with arresting vulnerability in her eyes, Draco knew this was her first time.

He flipped her onto her back, deftly unhooking her bra as he did. She buried her hand in his hair. His body hummed as his fingers drew concentric circles around her breasts. Each circle was tighter than the last.

When his fingers reached the center, he placed a soft kiss on her rosy nipple. She let out a shaky breath and he felt his cock throbbing. He ached to be inside her, but first, he wanted her to beg for it.

She arched her back as his mouth moved expertly down her side. He pressed a kiss to the _Mudblood_ scar on her left forearm before continuing his path down her torso, over her hips, to the inside of her thigh.

Each kiss was a silent promise to himself and to Hermione.

He would put an end to this senseless war. They would make it out alive.

But just in case, he wasn't going to put off having sex with Hermione Granger for another minute.

He slipped her underwear off of her legs before tugging at the waistband of his own boxers.

Her fingers tightened in his hair as he pressed his face between her thighs and kissed her entrance. "Draco," she moaned. He dragged his tongue over the slit, savoring the salty taste of her wetness as much as the sound of his name leaving her lips. He wanted to return the favor, but couldn't find the strength to speak.

He pulled himself back to his knees, drinking in her appearance.

"Draco," she said again, eyes wide, fingers twitching, bare chest heaving. She was so beautiful. And for the night, she was all his.

He licked her sweetness from his lips and then lowered himself on top of her. She shuddered as he entered her, pressing a deep kiss to her lips.

Her body was flush against his. Lips on lips, skin on skin, as he fucked her over and under and over again. Somehow, he would never be close enough to her. He could never get enough of her


	30. Chapter 30

_"Have you any idea how much tyrants fear the people they oppress? All of them realize that, one day, amongst their many victims, there is sure to be one who rises against them and strikes back!"_

— Albus Dumbledore

"All right, Hermione?" Ron asked as Hermione settled into her chair at breakfast.

"I'm fine, Ronald," she said, flinching. "Just a little sore."

Draco hid his smirk by sipping his coffee.

"What's on your neck?" Harry asked, brushing her hair off her shoulder and exposing the small purple bruise at the base of her throat.

Hermione cleared her throat as her eyes widened. She glared at Draco. A bit of coffee dribbled down his chin as he tried to contain his laughter.

"I can give you some Bruise Removal Paste," George said from across the table. "But if I were you, Hermione, I'd wear that like a badge of honor. It's been ages since I've had any action with-"

"Okay, thank you for that," Hermione interrupted, slamming her hands down on the table, just as Molly walked through the threshold into the kitchen, followed by Pansy, Theo, Blaise, and the little girl from Nottingham.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the little girl as Ron stood up. Draco slid into his seat. "Who's that?" she asked Harry.

"Her name's Ophelia," Harry said. "She was in the cellars at Malfoy Manor. She doesn't know where her family is, so Molly's keeping an eye on her for now. Draco found her, hiding at Neville's cousin's with McGonagall's wand."

Hermione eyed Ophelia skeptically. "She's a Muggle?"

Draco frowned at Hermione's tone, but was soon distracted by his friends. Her shoulders curled inwards, unconsciously, at the sudden presence of the Slytherins. 

"Good Lord, what did you do to her, Draco?" Pansy asked, jerking her chin towards Hermione's neck.

"I think that's my cue to leave," Hermione said, picking up her empty plate.

"You couldn't have waited another week?" Theo asked. "Now I'm out ten galleons."

"Thanks for that, mate," Blaise smirked and held his hand out to Draco for a high-five. Draco lifted his hand, but lowered it again when he saw Hermione's disapproval.

"Unbelievable," Hermione said. It was worse than Hogwarts here, having everyone all up in her business.

Ron slammed his plate down on the table and strode purposefully out of the kitchen.

Hermione gnawed on the inside of her cheek as she stood, almost knocking her chair over. "Way to go," she muttered to Draco. "Ron!" she called, chasing after his retreating figure.

He was silhouetted in the light from the windows that lined the corridor. Head bowed, shoulders hunched, fingers curled into fists. She reached out, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged her off. "You didn't need to follow me."

"Of course I didn't _need_ to. You're my friend and I wanted to talk to you." She paused. "Are you okay?"

"Maybe if it were anybody else. I know I don't understand you the way you need to be understood, but," He let out a humorless laugh, "Malfoy, of all people? Merlin, I thought they were joking."

She folded her arms, her eyes flooded with tears. "I didn't mean for it to happen. God knows I didn't want this, but he's changed, and he's sweet and so smart and-"

Ron sighed, tucking his fists into the pockets of his sweatshirt. "Hermione, I'm happy if you're happy, but please don't make me stand here and listen to this."

Hermione's shoulders dropped. Her voice cracked as she said, "I didn't mean to hurt you. He was just... there. And then suddenly, he was all there was for me."

"I know." He pulled a strand of hair out from behind her ear and let it drape over her collarbone, covering the love-bite. "Believe me, I know."

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶ ⚯͛ ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Hermione cringed as Draco cracked the bones in his neck for the fifth time in fifteen minutes. "You know, you can permanently damage your spinal cord by doing that too often," she said.

He tucked the rosary beads into his shirt. He still didn't know exactly what they meant, or what their purpose was, but it was the closest thing he had to a gift from Hermione.

"Are you almost ready?" he asked. He'd been pacing, trying to keep his frenetic thoughts at bay, while Hermione practiced _Proiectura._

"One more time," she said, lifting her wand.

He snatched it out of her hand. "Everyone's waiting."

"Malfoy! Give it back!"

He faltered, and she seized the opportunity to take her wand back. She hadn't called him Malfoy in weeks now, it sounded strange coming out of her mouth.

"You can do that spell in your sleep," he said, rubbing a hand down her arm. "You're still nervous?"

Hermione scratched the back of her neck as she pulled her beaded bag over her head. "Yes, but we don't have time to utilize the coping strategies we used last night."

Draco caught her chin between his fingers. "Mmm, but there were so many good ones," he whispered, before pressing his lips against hers. He felt her trying to suppress a smile against his mouth before pulling away. "Let's go." _So we can get back and get back to this._

Her eyebrows knit together as she kicked the floor, following Draco out of the bedroom. "I can't believe Theo and Blaise made a bet about when we would have sex," she said.

"Oh, I can," he said, shutting the door behind her. She began to tie her hair up as she walked, but then she remembered the ugly purple bruise on her neck. "Theo and I made the same bet about Blaise and Pansy in our fifth year."

"And you didn't have to leave a hickey," she grumbled, rubbing at the tender skin. "We're not schoolchildren anymore."

He brushed a finger across it. "I'll be sure to leave my next one in a more discrete location next time."

Her cheeks flushed. "It's barbaric. We're civilized adults, and you're acting like a dog pissing on a fire hydrant," she said, though she was laughing.

He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "Whatever you say, Miss Granger."

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. Draco felt his chest inflate. The pride in her eyes and posture at winning such a trivial argument, it was so innocent, almost childlike. It awakened that now-familiar, innate sense of protectiveness, usually reserved for Theo and Blaise.

A chorus of voices in the foyer crescendoed as the pair approached the rest of the Order. Hermione stopped Draco with an outstretched arm before they entered Ron's line of sight. Lifting herself onto the tips of her toes, she rested her forearms on his shoulders and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

He exhaled forcefully as she pulled away. "Take care of yourself out there, Granger." She nodded, smoothing a wrinkle on the front of his shirt. Draco couldn't pull his eyes away from the curve of her downturned lips. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know how we're going to beat her," she said with a sigh. "With Voldemort, we knew how many Horcruxes he had and we had a place to start, but we still spent an entire year looking for them." Draco flinched at his name.

"We'll just take it one step at a time," he said.

Hermione dragged a hand through her unruly curls. Without another word, she left Draco's side and joined the group.

Draco sighed, flexing his back as he followed her.

"About damn time," Blaise said, nudging Draco's shoulder with his. "Did you put it in her again this morning?"

"Don't be slimy," said Draco, borrowing the turn of phrase from Hermione. He kept an eye on Hermione as she exchanged greetings with Harry and Ron. Kingsley and Snape took their place at the head of the group.

Kingsley cleared his throat, and the rest of the small crowd grew quiet. "Slytherins, Arthur, George, Bill, and Fleur, you'll go with Severus to Diagon Alley to occupy the main Death Eater force in London. Everyone else will come with me to Trafalgar Square to project Bellatrix's memories."

The hairs on the back of Draco's neck raised. He looked to Hermione, who was staring straight ahead. He couldn't be separated from her. Not after last night, and not after everything Bellatrix had already put Hermione through.

Selfishly, he wanted to be near her because Hermione was the only one he trusted to watch his back in battle. Blaise and Theo and Pansy would be with him, but the Slytherin brotherhood wasn't an altruistic one. His friends would leave him to the wolves if it meant saving themselves, and they expected the same from Draco.

Even more selfishly, he didn't trust Hermione to keep her head on her shoulders and the breath in her lungs; not if Harry and Ron's lives were at stake.

 _We don't know if Bellatrix will even show up_ , he reasoned with himself. He might be worrying about nothing.

"Ready, mate?" Theo asked, clapping Draco on the shoulder.

"I think I'm going to go with the other group," Draco said in a low voice. "Seems like you lot will have Diagon Alley covered."

"No, Mr. Malfoy." Draco closed his eyes. Snape. "You will do as you are told."

"Professor, I really think my talents would be better used-"

"I am not your professor, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, lifting his chin. Though Draco was several inches taller than Snape, the former Potions Master always had a way of making him feel small.

Draco sighed as Snape turned away. He looked over to Hermione again, but before he could say anything, she disappeared.

Pansy grabbed his hand and tugged him into oblivion before depositing him in Diagon Alley. He stumbled as they landed on the hard cobblestone.

Draco still wasn't sure why, exactly, so many Death Eaters hung around Diagon Alley, but he suspected it had something to do with Borgin and Burke's.

He elbowed Blaise in the ribs. "Cover for me?"

Blaise shot a nervous glance at Snape. "Are you going after Granger?"

Draco shook his head. "Don't worry about it." The less Blaise knew about the Order and Bellatrix, the better. He was the reason they were involved, after all. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if anything happened to them because of his decisions.

Even so, he couldn't bring himself to regret anything.

He ducked his head and sank into the shadows, disappearing from the group's eye and into Knockturn Alley. If only he'd had the foresight to ask Potter for his Invisibility Cloak. Shouts echoed behind him as the Order and the Death Eaters began exchanging spells, but he wouldn't turn around. If Bellatrix was hiding something in Borgin and Burke's, then she wouldn't leave it unprotected while the Order was exposing her nearby.

A flash of silver drew his attention to the waistband of a passerby. A gun.

It was far too easy for Muggles to their hands on guns.

Draco couldn't stop his mind from racing to Hermione. She was one of the best witches he knew, but she hadn't been the best version of herself lately. Staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, she'd freeze up, she'd have a panic attack.

And it would be so easy for her to get caught in the crossfire if Potter or Weasley were threatened.

 _Don't think about it_ , he told himself. She would be fine; Potter and Weasley were with her, and as much as Draco couldn't stand them, they wouldn't let anything happen to Hermione. For that, at least, Draco respected them.

He kept his head bowed as a cluster of Death Eaters jogged past him. Draco pulled out his wand and tapped it against his thigh. " _Confundo,_ " he said. The Death Eaters paused and Draco continued his trek to Borgin and Burke's.

He sucked in a deep breath when he saw Dolohov exiting the shop. Draco darted behind a mailbox. When he poked his head out, Bellatrix was beside Dolohov. She seemed paler than usual. Ethereal, in a way, like her old self was fading away, yet, she was more _Bellatrix_ than ever before. Though being in such proximity seemed the drain the air from Draco's windpipe, his shoulders dropped in relief. At least Hermione was out of danger.

"Narcissa told me she brought it here!" Bellatrix cried, her wild curls twisting in the summer breeze.

Draco felt the back of his neck burning.

"Was she lying?" Dolohov asked, voice gruff.

Bellatrix sighed. She looked like a young teenager, bottom lip stuck out in an unattractive pout. "I will slip some Veritaserum in her tea tonight to find out."

The pressure on the back of his neck increased. His breathing hastened as Bellatrix inched closer to him. It felt like he was wearing a collar made of hot iron, which was constricting his throat like a noose. He let out a small gasp; a desperate choke for air.

Bellatrix stilled. With a deliberate turn on her heel, she tucked her chin and flashed a sinister smile at Draco.

"Dearest nephew," she said, her voice sickly-sweet. Draco clawed at his neck, where Bellatrix's predatory eyes were trained.

_Fuck._

He reached for his wand just as Bellatrix did the same. He threw up a sloppy _Protego_ charm.

" _Sectumsempra!_ " Bellatrix shouted.

Draco let out a cry of pain as invisible knives slashed at his chest. In the brief moment, before his mind processed his pain, Draco felt the intense burning of betrayal that always seemed to accompany this curse.

He wished he could say the physical pain overrode that.

Summoning all his strength, he erected another shield between them before using the last of his strength to apparate to Trafalgar Square. He collapsed to his hands and knees when he landed on the concrete steps of the National Gallery. He coughed, wrapping a hand around his throat.

He had landed in the middle of a crowd of Muggles, most of whom were staring intently at a holographic image of Bellatrix torturing Hermione. As he pulled himself to his feet, the Muggles around him turned away, shifting their weight and casting nervous glances his way. A few clutched their mobile phones. He stumbled down the steps, tearing at his shirt, which had grown sticky with his blood. The crowd ended where the steps did. He once again fell to the ground, unable to hold up his own weight.

The pain overcame him like a tidal wave, washing away every other thought in his mind, save for one: his beacon in the storm, a strong and steady lighthouse.

He needed to get to Hermione.


	31. Chapter 31

_"One can never have enough socks."_

— Albus Dumbledore

Hermione's knuckles were white as she clenched her wand between her fingers. She bit her lip in concentration.

She wished she had chosen a different one of Bellatrix's memories. There were few things she wanted to do less than rewatch herself being brutally tortured and mutilated, but this was what had to be done.

Above her, standing on the ledge of the fountain, was Harry. She knew he was speaking, probably explaining the memories, how the Death Eaters' propaganda was all lies, but she couldn't process any of his words. She couldn't let her attention for one second, lest she risk the hologram drop.

Ron stood beside her. Every few seconds, their fingers brushed against each other. Hermione savored the warmth of his hand.

"Is that Draco?" Luna asked.

Hermione's concentration fractured and the memory dissipated. She whipped her head to see the unmistakable white-blonde hair, bent in half on one knee, with stains across the front of his grey shirt. She pushed past Ron. The air she inhaled felt like razor blades in her throat.

She struggled to keep her mind focused as her knees slammed into the pavement beside him. "What's wrong?" she exhaled, ignoring the confused and concerned whispers from the Muggles around them.

Dracos' face warped in discomfort as she shifted his position so his head was laying in her lap. The stains of blood crisscrossed over his chest. Hermione muttered a spell to tear open the front of his shirt. She hated that they had such a large audience to witness Draco's vulnerability, but she didn't want to apparate him anywhere else and risk splinching.

" _Vulnera sanentur_ ," she said, pouring all her concentration into healing Draco's wounds. She didn't notice Dolohov and Bellatrix appear behind them. She didn't notice Bellatrix cast an Unforgiveable Curse in their direction.

And she didn't see Harry step in front of them to block Draco from the Cruciatus Curse until it was too late.

His screams brought her back to reality. She lost feeling in her fingertips when she recognized his pale body crumple to the ground beside Draco. "Harry!" she shouted, keeping a hand on Draco's arm. Before his name finished leaving her mouth, Ron had crouched beside Harry's body, with Kingsley right beside him.

Charlie, Dean, and Seamus were flinging defensive spells at the Death Eaters, trying their best to avoid the scattering Muggles. Ron helped Harry to his feet and held his hand out to Hermione, expectantly.

"You need to get out of here," Kingsley said.

"Draco can't move yet," she said, waving her wand over his bare skin again.

"Granger," said Draco, his voice hoarse. "Go."

"Don't talk." Hermione shook her head. " _Vulnera sanentur_."

"Hermione," Ron said. "You and Harry are the ones they won't hesitate to kill. Get him out of here." She opened her mouth to protest, but Ron interrupted. "Please, get Harry out of here. I swear, I'll bring Malfoy back to you."

She looked up. Dolohov and Bellatrix were getting closer; no doubt more Death Eaters would be there soon. Where were Snape and the Slytherins?

Harry was pale, leaning on Ron for support. He wouldn't be able to hold his own when a fight inevitably broke out.

Draco squeezed her hand. "Go."

She pressed a kiss to his sweaty forehead. "I'll see you soon."

"We'll be right behind you." Ron took her place as she stood. " _Vulnera sanentur_."

She wrapped an arm around Harry's back and let him place most of his weight on her. She had to close her eyes to get Draco out of her mind and put all of her energy into making sure Harry wasn't splinched as she apparated them back to Zabini Manor.

When they landed in the bedroom Harry was occupying, she heard Harry inhale sharply.

"Are you okay?" she asked, helping him to bed. "I'm sorry, that was a stupid question. I'll get you some tea and some healing potion." She kept her eyes averted as she conjured a mug and filled it with hot water. She had seen Harry in worse shape than this; she thought she'd seen his corpse at one point, but she couldn't look at him now.

Harry had always been the best of them. He was the bravest. He was the one who always did what had to be done to keep them alive, and Hermione couldn't tell at what point their lives weren't worth it anymore.

She handed him the cup of tea. Steam rose from the mug in tendrils, like tentacles, before it disappeared.

Hermione wished the clouds in her mind would dissipate into the ether in the same way, but now that the thought was in her brain, she couldn't get rid of it. Ron and Draco had told her to leave, to get Harry to safety, while they fought Bellatrix off. Those memories, the lie that Bellatrix had fed the Muggles, was the last thing protecting them. They'd played their hand, and now Bellatrix had nothing to lose.

The realization tasted like acid on Hermione's tongue. At this point, now that they know the truth, Muggles were more use to Bellatrix dead than alive.

Hermione dug around in her bag and thrust a healing potion into Harry's hand. "Take this. I'll be back soon."

He wrapped a hand around Hermione's wrist. His grip was weak, but Hermione still couldn't break free. "I know what you're thinking."

She blinked back tears. He was the one who'd been hit with a _Crucio_ , and yet she was the one being comforted. _Of course_ he knew what she was thinking. He always did. He'd been holding the weight of the world on his shoulders for seven years, he could help her carry this burden.

Harry downed the potion and held up the blanket, gesturing for Hermione to slide in next to him. "Everyone will be fine," Harry said, sensing her hesitation. "I didn't take a _Crucio_ because of him," he said. "I took it for you, because I see the way you look at him, and if he died from the pain or the blood loss-" Hermione flinched, and Harry paused. "I don't want you to lose anyone else. I certainly didn't save his life just for you throw yourself back into the thick of it."

Hermione sighed and tucked herself into Harry's side. He settled his arm across her shoulders. "Thank you."

"I will never do it again," he said.

Hermione stifled a laugh. "You said that when you saved him from Fiendfyre, too."

He sighed. "I meant it at the time."

She rested her head against his shoulder and waited for his breathing to even out.

Not long after he fell asleep, Hermione heard voices from the hallway. She slipped out of Harry's bed to find Theo, Blaise, and Pansy right outside the door. Each of them had mild cuts across their faces, but seemed to be in good spirits. "Is Draco okay?" she asked warily. She wondered if she'd ever reach a point where she didn't feel uncomfortable and inferior before Draco's friends.

Blaise's eyebrows met. "I thought Draco was with you."

Hermione spun on her heel and strode down the hallway, accelerating until she reached the bedroom she and Draco had shared with the Slytherins right on her tail.

Hermione nearly sobbed in relief when she saw him, sitting up in bed, pale pink scars marking his bare, pale chest. Ron stood at the door, arms crossed.

The Slytherins assaulted Draco with admonishments and demands to know what had happened. Hermione hung back, wrapping an arm around Ron's waist. "Thank you," she whispered, placing a kiss on his arm.

Ron squeezed her shoulder. "How's Harry?"

"Sleeping."

Ron nodded. "I'll go check in on him."

Hermione let out a deep breath as Ron exited.

She felt outnumbered with Theo, Blaise, and Pansy, but lately, it'd become harder and harder to let Draco out of her sight.

"I'm fine," Draco insisted. "Snape killed Dolohov."

Hermione's stilled. Blaise let out a low whistle.

"She can't have too many followers left at this point," Theo said.

Draco flashed a weary smile at Hermione. "Hey, Granger."

Hermione edged closer to his bed. Theo was underneath the covers with him, while Pansy sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed. She drummed her fingers against the top of the mattress.

Blaise looked up from the desk chair he was occupying. "How close are we to ending this?"

Draco pulled the rosary from around his neck and handed it to Theo. Theo examined the crucifix at the bottom. "That's her other Horcrux."

Like it was a hot piece of coal, Theo tossed the necklace to Blaise. "How do you know?"

Draco rubbed the back of his neck. "I just know."

Hermione frowned. "Does she know you have it?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. I thought she saw it, but if she had, she would have tried harder to get it back, right?"

"Well, we have to destroy it. Tonight."

Draco reached for the rosary, tucking it into his pocket. "I think we should use it to lure and trap her."

He kept his eyes on her, as if asking for her approval. Hermione wanted, more than anything, to trust him, but there were so many ways this could go wrong. They'd be better leaving Snape and Kingsley to come up with a plan.

Luckily, Hermione wasn't the only one who seemed to think so. "We can talk about it after you get some rest," Pansy said, patting Draco's foot.

Hermione waited until the Slytherins shuffled out of the room before she spoke. "Can I get you anything? Do you want some water?" she asked.

He shook his head. Gripping her wrist, he pulled her closer to him. "I just want you."

Hermione's cheeks warmed as she slid into bed next to him, staring at his pale fingers intertwined with hers. Careful not to touch the tender skin on his chest, she rested her head against his shoulder and splayed her fingers across his bare abdomen.

She wanted to tell him his idea to trap Bellatrix was a bad one, but she wasn't in the mood to start an argument, especially with Draco in the state he was in.

Though he was scraped and bruised, it was positively serendipitous to be in his arms now, after all these years. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't been enraptured by the Malfoy boy from the first second she laid eyes on him.

But then he opened his mouth.

And yet somehow, despite the bullying and the childish rivalry, she still landed right back at his feet.

She wasn't going to ruin the moment with a fight that could still be had in the morning. They deserved at least one night of peace.

Until the next morning. They sat facing each other on the bed, the blankets in a pile beside them, with the Horcrux neatly laid out between them.

"We should destroy it," Hermione said. "Now." She wished Draco would put his shirt on. It gave him an unfair advantage, and he damn well knew it.

"We'll never get her alone if we destroy it."

"There are too many ways it could go wrong."

Draco ran a hand down his face. "The wolves are at the gates, Hermione. We don't have many other options at this point."

"They're not just at the gates, they're at our throats! One wrong move and they'll rip us apart with their teeth."

Draco sighed and reached for the rosary. When Hermione glared at him, he retracted his hand. "She's predictable. She still follows the Dark Lord."

"She's a sycophant, even in his death, but she doesn't have anyone to answer to anymore."

He snatched the rosary off of the sheets and stood before she could grab it away from him. "Why don't you trust me? I know her. I know how she thinks."

"We already used our Hail Mary!" Hermione jumped to her feet, a fit of rage brewing in her gut. "We can't risk any more Muggle lives."

But even as the words left her mouth, she knew that yelling at him wouldn't be conducive to anything they were trying to do. She closed her eyes reached for his hands, squeezing them with every ounce of her draining strength. "You must know that I trust you, more than anything."

He cupped her face and leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. "I swear on my father's grave and on Bellatrix's, I will kill her, and you and I will make it out of this."

He sealed his promise with a kiss to her lips, then to her jaw, and then a few rounds of morning bliss.


	32. Chapter 32

_"Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving."_

— Kingsley Shacklebolt

"Listen to this," Hermione said. The two of them were sitting in the Zabini's library, sharing a loveseat. Her bare legs were slung across Draco's lap as she read her mother's favorite novel: a battered copy of _Anna Karenina_ that Hermione kept with her at all times. "' _In spite of death, he felt the necessity to live and to love. He felt that love saved him from despair and that under the threat of despair this love was becoming still stronger and purer',"_ she read, then clutched the open book to her chest, careful not to let her damp hair wet the pages.

Draco drew a finger up the length of her smooth thigh.

"I can't believe you've never read Tolstoy," she said. "He is a staple of the Western canon!"

Draco smiled at her, without showing his teeth, but his small dimple caved in at the corner of his mouth. "Keep reading."

She lifted her book and blinked as she searched for her place. " _The one mystery of death, still unsolved, had scarcely passed before his eyes, when another mystery had arisen, as insoluble, urging him to love and to life._ " She sighed, as if she hadn't heard anything as romantic.

He pulled at the hem of her shirt and leaned towards her. She sat up and pressed her lips to his in an innocent peck.

"Tease," he muttered as she lay back down and continued reading. He lifted his wand, absent-mindedly practicing wordless magic while keeping most of his attention on Hermione. He watched intently as her mouth formed the words she read, the way her eyebrows shot up and down as she read, though Draco was sure she had read this book at least three times already; there was no way she was surprised by what was happening.

"Hermione!"

Hermione let the book fall flat onto her chest as she looked up. "Harry!" she scrambled to sit up and put some distance between her and Draco. "Are you feeling better?" Draco shifted in his seat. He should thank Potter for saving his life, again, shouldn't he? Or at least apologize for putting him in that situation; for leading Bellatrix and Dolohov to Trafalgar Square.

"Much, thank you." He turned to Draco and offered a curt nod. "Malfoy."

Draco gave him a tight smile as he scratched the back of his head. "Thanks for... yesterday?" He hated the insecurity in his voice, but he hated feeling indebted to Potter immeasurably more. At this point, he owed Potter his life three times over. All he could do was pray that Harry wouldn't come to collect.

"Like I told Hermione," he said with a cynical glance in her direction, "I didn't do it for you."

"You could just say 'You're welcome' and move on," Hermione said, but Harry continued.

"I heard about your plan, to lead Bellatrix into a trap."

Draco opened his mouth to defend his plan. He was getting tired of having to do that.

"I think it's a good idea," Harry said before Draco could interrupt.

Hermione hummed. "Of course _you_ do," Hermione said under her breath.

Harry turned to her. "Can you get me a cup of tea?"

Hermione snorted and lifted her book. "Get it yourself."

His lips pulled down into a pout. "I was tortured yesterday."

She rolled her eyes as she stood. "That's going to get old very quickly."

Draco watched her retreat, growing more uncomfortable with Potter's presence with each step she took. Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, settling in an easy, confident facade. Draco stood and mirrored his posture, unwilling to relinquish any semblance of dominance.

"How are you?" Potter asked.

Draco narrowed his eyes, his level of skepticism rising. "What's with the niceties?" Harry was less than an inch taller than Draco, but Potter still seemed to hold all the power.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe I'm just trying to be nice."

Draco resisted the urge to scoff.

"I know you don't give a shit whether I, or the rest of the Order, live or die," Harry started. It wasn't quite true, but Draco didn't say so. Let Potter think he was indifferent; his perception of Draco was of very little importance to him. "But I'd like to give you the benefit of the doubt and believe you're here because you actually care about Hermione."

Draco's mouth went dry. "Where are you going with this?" He wasn't about to defend his feelings for her to Harry _fucking_ Potter, of all people. He also wasn't particularly interested in having the, " _She's like a sister to me and you aren't good enough for her_ " conversation.

"I think this plan of yours is the best shot we have at ending this, but it's a calculated risk. Especially for me and Hermione. I just want to make sure you won't defect if and when it becomes convenient."

Draco's face flushed. He had defected from the Death Eaters, but he wasn't as mercurial as Potter was making him sound. He cocked an eyebrow, desperate for this conversation to come to a close.

"You took the _Crucio_ that was meant for me," Draco pointed out. "I don't think they'll want me back."

Harry shrugged. "If it had been aimed at me, I can almost guarantee it would have been an _Avada._ " Draco glanced at the door. _Why was Hermione taking so long?_ "Look, I don't like you, Malfoy. And I really hate that you're spending so much time with Hermione, but somewhere, deep down, Bellatrix has a soft spot for you. At the very least, she wants you alive, so for some unfortunate reason, it seems Hermione is the safest right by your side."

Draco frowned. He didn't like those odds. "She can handle herself."

"I know," Harry was quick to refute. "Just, we're hanging by a thread. And the thread _is_ Hermione; without her, this operation would have disintegrated during our first year. So promise me, whatever happens with the Horcrux and Bellatrix, you'll do whatever you can— _everything_ you can do— to protect her."

Draco's fragile respect for Potter grew. From Draco's perspective, Potter had just ridden Hermione's coattails for seven years. At least he afforded Hermione the credit she deserved. "That was the plan all along, so this conversation was pointless," Draco said coolly. "I hope you enjoyed your power trip, though." Draco sank back into the pillows on the couch, no longer concerned with their physical power dynamics after Potter's desperate plea.

Harry rolled his eyes but took it in stride. "I'll hold you to that."

"Is that a threat?" Draco lifted his chin.

Harry shrugged. "Let's just say, if anything happens to her, or to Ron, or Ginny, I'll be a man with very little to lose. You'd do well to remember that."

Just then, the door to the library creaked open and Hermione entered holding two steaming mugs.

"You are an angel!" said Harry, his amiable nature returning as he took his cup. He frowned when he looked inside. "You forgot milk."

"Well you didn't ask for milk," she said, handing the other mug to Draco. He took a whiff. Coffee. With milk, just the way he liked it. "Kingsley's looking for us."

The three of them made their way to the kitchen, where Kingsley and the rest of the Order were waiting for them. Their walk was silent, save for the sound of Draco slurping his coffee. Once they arrived, Draco took a seat beside Theo. Hermione sat across from them, beside Luna.

She yawned as she settled into the wooden chair.

Theo snickered. "Were you two up all night?" Hermione gave him a blank look. "You know," Theo lowered his voice. " _Doing it?_ "

"Yeah, I understood the insinuation," she said.

Draco laughed as he passed Hermione his mug of coffee.

"I will take that a yes," said Theo.

"Surely there's a more interesting topic of conversation than our sex life?" Draco said. Of course, right at that moment, Kingsley stepped to the center of floor and a hush fell over the room. Every pair of eyes snapped to Draco.

Hermione felt her cheeks warm as she choked on the hot liquid. She lowered the cup. Draco snatched his coffee mug back and chugged the rest of it.

Kingsley cleared his throat. "Indeed, there is." He gestured to Snape, who was lounging in an armchair, one ankle casually slung across the opposite knee.

"We will move against Bellatrix tomorrow, at Hogsmeade," Snape said, with reserved confidence. "Malfoy, Potter, Granger, Finnigan, Lovegood, and the Weasley's will show up first, with the Horcrux to lure her to a secure location, where the rest of us will be waiting to destroy it, and then kill her."

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Hermione and Draco found their way back to the couch in the library they'd been sitting on earlier. Hermione had begun to read, but then Draco started teasing her about her hair, and before either of them knew it, they were snogging. After a few moments, their kisses grew lazy and slow. Draco bit at Hermione's lip, and she pulled away. He frowned. "Everything okay?"

"What did you and Harry talk about?"

Draco pulled at his ear. He had a feeling she already knew.

She leaned back and shifted her weight so she was facing forward, away from Draco. She rested her head on the pillow, exposing her neck. "I've been part of this for seven years. I'd have thought he'd understand that I'm more than capable of protecting myself by now." Her voice had a hint of irritation in it, but it was more exhausted than anything else. "I hope you told him off."

Draco let out a surprised, guttural laugh, which turned into a cough. Hermione frowned as she sat up. "Please don't tell me you played along. You're perpetuating the notion that women need male protection!"

"It's not because you're a girl," Draco countered. "It's because I-" the words got caught in his throat. _I love you._ Everything else with Hermione had been easy. Effortless. Why was this impossible?

Hermione tucked in her lips as she suppressed a smile. She already knew. Merlin, of course, she knew; she always did. Draco leaned in to kiss her, but she wasn't so quick to forgive. She pushed at his chest. "That doesn't give you the right to—"

He reached for her hands and held them to his chest. Her breath hitched as his piercing grey eyes caught hers. "If I die, at least I'll go out fighting for my redemption. You, the Order, it goes on without me."

She recoiled, as if the possibility of his death had not yet crossed her mind. Tears rimmed her eyes as she vehemently shook her head. Draco had to avert his eyes. Death didn't scare him anymore, but being separated from Hermione terrified him like nothing else. They had proved time and time again that nothing good could happen when they were apart.

"I won't," Hermione whispered.

"You'll have to," Draco said, leaning in closer and matching her volume. "They need you."

" _I_ need _you,"_ she said, her voice rising. "I don't want you to worry about me while we're fighting. God, are you even thinking about what would happen to me if you died protecting me, and I had to live with that guilt for the rest of my life? That would eat me alive."

He brushed a strand of hair out of her face with a sad smile. "You have the Weasley's and Potter and the rest of the Order to think about. _They need you_. Granger, you're all I have. I can't lose you. And I won't let them lose you."

"You have Blaise, and Theo, and Pansy. Do you think they'll stick around if you aren't here?"

"It's not the same."

A trail of tears leaked from the inner corner of her eye. She bowed her head. "So why am I not enough?"

His head shot up and he cupped her face. "You're everything." This was why he wanted to keep his conversation with Potter to himself. "I am going to do everything in my power to make sure we both make it out alive, but if it comes down to it, I'm going to choose you every damn time." He said that if he died, he wanted to go out fighting for his redemption: _she_ was his redemption. And he didn't want to live in a world without that hope. "I hope you'll forgive me."

She said nothing. He pressed his nose against the tip of hers. She sniffed as she pulled away from him.

He sighed. "It's all hypothetical, Granger. I don't plan on dying tomorrow if I can help it. You can't get rid of me that easily."

The unspoken words hung above their heads like a guillotine.

Their plans were meaningless; as futile and helpless as a burning sheet of paper.


	33. Chapter 33

_"Mischief Managed!'_

—Harry Potter

Hermione avoided Draco for the rest of the day. According to Pansy, she was on a walk with Potter. Unfortunately, Draco had made a habit of avoiding Harry, even before their conversation earlier.

"Come have a drink with your former friends?" Pansy suggested.

"You're still my friends," Draco argued. Pansy cocked an eyebrow. "But I don't think we should show up to the fight for our lives hungover."

Pansy held up the bottle of wine. "Just one drink."

He followed her out the backdoor, to the elaborate gardens. Draco had to force himself to keep his jaw closed. It was acres and acres of flowers, trellises, and trees, even a hedge maze. Narcissa kept an expansive garden, but it was modest compared to this. Draco hadn't even known that the Zabinis had an estate in Scotland, let alone one this large.

Although, it was probably Draco's fault for never asking.

"Draco!" Theo announced, spreading his arms wide.

"Hey," Draco said mildly, reaching out to shake Theo's hand. "Ready for tomorrow?"

"I am going to kick some Death Eater ass!" he exclaimed. Draco dropped next to him, surprised at how quickly his reluctance had turned to genuine enthusiasm; his friends had taken up the cause for themselves. Maybe he wasn't as alone as he always thought.

A rustle of leaves drew his attention away from Theo. Harry was holding up a tree branch for Hermione to walk under, while she picked twigs out of her hair, laughing. Her face fell when she met Draco's eye. Draco felt a sharp stab in his ribcage.

On one hand, he felt guilty. He'd staunchly maintained his position that he would, if it came to it, die for her, and now, every time she looked at him, all she saw was death and despair. At the same time, this wasn't anything new. Any of the Order would die for her. Draco couldn't help but feel resentful: no one was giving profound declarations of love and protection to him.

Except for Hermione, and under no circumstances would he accept her risking herself for him. Just the thought made him physically ill. Which brought him right back to square one: guilt. She kept her head down and followed Harry back inside.

"What happened between you two lovebirds?" Blaise asked.

Pansy elbowed him. "You sure you don't want that drink, mate?"

Draco sighed and grabbed the bottle, downing a considerable amount in one gulp. Blaise reached for the bottle. "Pace yourself," he said.

"Trouble in paradise?" Pansy questioned.

"I don't understand teenage girls," said Draco.

Theo raised his bottle. "Cheers to that."

Draco sighed. It wasn't any of their business, but he'd had a few sips of wine, so the words slipped out easily. "She's angry with me because I want to protect her."

Theo snorted. "This is why I don't talk to Gryffindors. Ungrateful twats, they all are."

Pansy leaned back against the smooth granite steps that lead up to the house. She crossed her arms.

Draco wasn't sure he wanted any of their opinions, but he still asked, "What do you think?"

Pansy shrugged, holding her hand out for the wine. Blaise handed it to her. "She just wants to be a hero. She's spent the last, however many, years in Harry Potter's shadow. Everyone at Hogwarts knows her, but the rest of the Wizarding World hasn't been paying attention until now. She's finally starting to prove herself, and to her, it seems like you're trying to take that away." She finished the last few drops of wine and set the empty glass bottle down.

Draco furrowed his brow, dissatisfied with Pansy's response. "So, what, I'm just supposed to watch her get hurt to spare her ego?"

"That's a bit reductive," Blaise said.

"I didn't say that. I think she's overreacting, but I'm trying to help you see things from her perspective," said Pansy.

Draco groaned, letting his head fall against the stone wall.

"For what it's worth," Theo said, "I'd rather you not die for her."

Pansy raised the empty bottle. "Cheers to that."

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Draco returned to an empty bedroom. The pit in his stomach grew; it felt more like a black hole at this point. He stripped and went to the bathroom to shower before bed.

It was only ten o'clock, but he figured it would be better to be well-rested in the morning than to lie awake all night, soaking in his festering anxiety.

He took his time in the shower, with the hope that Hermione would return before he was done.

Hermione.

Fuck.

He should have told her he loved her. She knew, but if he'd been able to cough out the words, maybe she'd understand.

The hot water wasn't doing anything to wash away his frustration with her, with himself, with Potter.

He reached to adjust his crotch.

He had hoped to relieve some of his sexual frustration with Hermione, but he couldn't wait. Flexing his fingers, he gripped the length of his cock with one hand and braced the other on the shower door. Hermione's face was at the forefront of his mind the entire time.

He finished quickly. Watching his milky discharge mix with the soap and water in the drain, he didn't feel any better than he had a few minutes ago. He didn't even bother to dry himself off before slipping into a clean set of clothes and getting into bed.

Draco fell asleep almost instantly, plagued by a nightmare.

Pansy was the first to die, stabbed through the heart with Bellatrix's first Horcrux, the knife.

Theo was next. It was swift. A gunshot to the head.

Blaise's death took the longest. A masked figure wrapped a rope around his neck and strangled Blaise until he died of asphyxiation.

Then, Hermione.

Draco struggled to reach her but found himself bound by chains made of smoke

Voldemort entered the fray. The chains around Draco's wrists tightened. " _Avada Kedavra."_ When Draco tried to scream, his voice came out as Bellatrix's laughter.

He blinked, involuntarily, and when he opened his eyes, he saw himself, kneeling at Bellatrix's feet.

With a gasp, he shot up, fully alert. _So much for getting a good night's rest_. The bed shifted. A mess of brown curls was fanned across the pillow beside him, and Hermione's wide, ingenuous eyes stared up at him. "Nightmare?"

He nodded and lowered himself back to the pillow. They lay facing each other. Draco blinked. He wanted so badly to be angry at her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

His anger faded, like an old photograph left in the sun, as his heart contracted like a fist. He pressed a kiss to her cheek before falling back onto his pillow and allowing his eyelids to flutter close. "You apologize too much."

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The last time Hermione had been at Hogsmeade this early in the morning was during the Battle. The sun had not yet crested over the hill, and the street was still lit by gaslamps. She strode through the empty street, flanking Harry. She was careful not to step on any cracks in the cobblestone; not that she was superstitious, but it didn't seem like the day to take any risks.

"It is three in the morning on a Saturday," Draco whispered at her elbow. "The pubs should be crawling."

The wind brushed Hermione's hair over her shoulders. A piece of paper blew across her line of vision. "Maybe they've issued a curfew."

"What's the point of that?" Draco asked. Even without looking at him, she could detect the frown in his voice.

"To prove they can."

Draco exhaled forcefully. "Are you sure she's here?"

Harry held the Marauder's Map in front of him. "They're still using Hogwarts as a base," he said. "Bellatrix isn't on here, but that doesn't mean anything. She could be in the Room of Requirement, or the passageways-"

"Or in Hogsmeade," Hermione said.

Harry looked up and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Yeah."

"So, what? We're just going to wait here until she shows up?" Ron asked, indignant.

Harry shrugged.

Draco lifted his wand and shot a shower of red sparks into the air.

"What did you do that for?" Hermione hissed.

"Better than waiting," Draco said.

Harry cleared his throat. "Malfoy." He tossed something in Draco's direction. Deftly, Draco caught and pocketed it. Hermione squinting, barely catching the shape of the black crucifix as he tucked it away.

She turned to Harry. "What did you have that for?" Her tone was more accusatory than she'd intended; blame the lack of caffeine.

Rather than an answer, she was met with a wink from Draco. "Look alive out there, Granger."

"I don't like when you two scheme together," she said to Harry.

"You don't scheme with me anymore. I had to find someone to replace you."

She snorted and looked back at the castle, scanning the landscape for any sign of movement.

"The posters," Ginny said, pointing at a lamp post. She held the Sword of Gryffindor in one hand.

Rather than each member of the Order, the posters now only alternated between Hermione's portrait, and Bellatrix's.

The text below read:

_The Ministry of Magic humbly requests that all Muggleborn witches and wizards turn themselves in. Failure to do so will result in harsh consequences. Any information regarding the whereabouts of Hermione Granger should be reported to the Ministry._

A shiver shot up Hermione's spine as the blood drained from her face. _How had this become about her?_ She pulled the sleeves of her shirt over her hands as she took a step back, turning away from the posters.

When she turned, she found herself face to face with Bellatrix.

She let out a gasp and stumbled backward, lifting her wand. Shadows danced across Bellatrix's face, lit by the gaslamps. She walked as she appeared: silently, stealthily, with all the grace of a shark in still waters.

" _Protego_ ," Hermione chanted. Shadowy figures emerged from the alleyways. Muggles, judging by the lack of wands. Hermione frowned. Their plan should have worked. They'd broadcasted those memories in Central London; surely the news would have carried, a distrust would have been built against the Ministry and the Death Eaters.

Unless the Muggles had no choice. Hermione looked at them closer. They all walked in perfect rhythm, with a blissfully blank expression. Bellatrix had used the Imperius Curse.

"You," Bellatrix said with treacherous innocence, "have escaped me so many times, I should start calling you The Girl Who Lived." Hermione took another step backward. The defensive spells wouldn't last forever; she'd have to take the offensive if they wanted to make it out alive. "I wanted to break you," Bellatrix continued. "I wanted you to die on your knees, begging for mercy. I wanted it to be a spectacle, but you've become a nuisance. I suppose as long as you are dead at the end of the day, I will be satisfied."

A gunshot rang out from behind Hermione. She jumped but didn't take her eyes off of Bellatrix. All she could do was pray none of her friends were badly hurt. She was no use to them if she turned her back and Bellatrix cursed her dead.

Where was Draco? She couldn't feel his quiet, safe presence.

With a deep breath, Hermione dropped the shield charm. " _Confringo."_

Bellatrix blocked the spell. Hermione chanced a look over her shoulder; all of her friends were engaged in battle with the Muggles. It should have been an easy win for the Order, if not for the one cloaked wizard that countered each of their spells.

" _Crucio!_ " Bellatrix shouted, still holding tightly to her fantasy of torturing Hermione. Hermione ducked out of the way and tried her hardest to ignore the screams of a Muggle woman behind her. " _Avada-"_

 _"Silencio!"_ Hermione shouted. " _Expelliarmus_."

Bellatrix fell silent, and her wand flew from her hands. Hermione only had a moment to feel proud of herself. Bellatrix clenched her fist, contorted her features, and let out a deep breath. "I am more powerful than you could ever imagine," she taunted. Of course, she could perform wordless and wandless magic; she only used spells and her wand for the theatrics.

Bellatrix's eyes drifted to behind Hermione's shoulder. Her eyes widened. "Draco, no!"

Hermione's stomach fell to her knees. She whirled around, realizing as she did so that it was a colossal mistake. Draco was fine. Upright, holding his own against a Muggle and the wizard. Before she had a chance to cast another spell in Bellatrix's direction, she felt cool metal against her temple. Bellatrix lifted her chin, a triumphant, repulsive smirk twisted on her lips.

Hermione felt her heart slow. _This_ was why Draco had insisted she stay out of harm's way; not just because he didn't want her to get hurt, although that was part of it. He knew she didn't have what it takes to trade a Muggle's life for hers.

The man shoved her forward, keeping the barrel of the gun pressed flush against her head. Bellatrix leaned in close. "You're nothing more than a Mudblood," she whispered, and then pressed a harsh, wet, kiss to Hermione's cheek. "And you will die like a Muggle." She pushed Hermione's shoulders down, forcing her to her knees. Hermione let out a sharp cry of pain as her knees crashed onto uneven cobblestones. The gun didn't leave her skin.

"Stop!" Bellatrix cried. The Muggles and the wizards ceased their fighting and turned to Bellatrix. The Order followed, letting out hushed gasps as they saw Hermione.

Draco took an angry step forward, holding out his wand, but Harry and Ron held him back.

Bellatrix leered at him, pulling her lips back to reveal her canines. "This is what happens when you betray your master, Draco. You could have been a prince in the new order." She landed a swift kick to Hermione's ribs. Hermione fell to her elbow. The Muggle holding her pulled her back up by her hair. "You gave it all up for a girl and to look like a hero," she laughed. "I will kill your girl, right in front of you, and you will die like a coward. A traitor."

Hermione had faced death before, but this time felt different. It felt final. Her eyes watered, but she forced herself to keep them open. She wanted the sight in front of her to be the last thing she saw: Harry and Ron, her best friends. Draco, her everything.

She hadn't told him yet. _I love you_ , she mouthed, before closing her eyes and leaning into the gun.


	34. Chapter 34

_"Curiosity is not a sin... But we should exercise caution with our curiosity... yes, indeed."_

— Albus Dumbledore

Draco's head felt lighter than usual. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or the wine he'd shared with his friends, or the fact that Hermione had told him she loved him, or the fact that Hermione had told him she loved him because she had a gun to her head.

Probably a combination of those things. Regardless, he needed to get his head out of the clouds and back on his shoulders.

"Malfoy," Potter said. It was a warning, but not a threat. He wasn't trying to stop Draco.

Not even the Devil himself could stop Draco now.

"Bellatrix," he said. "Aunt Bella."

Bellatrix picked up a strand of Hermione's hair and curled it around her fingers. "Do not try to appeal to my sentimentality, Draco dearest." She tugged on Hermione's hair. Hermione grunted, suppressing a cry.

He snatched the Sword of Gryffindor from Ginny and pulled out the rosary from his pocket. "Let her go, or I'll destroy it."

She smirked. "Destroy it. It's only one. I have time to make more. Small price to pay for the death of Potter's Mudblood."

"You're bluffing."

She shrugged. "If you destroy it, you have no more leverage"

Draco swallowed and set his jaw. "Let her go, and I'll give it to you."

Bellatrix drew a jagged nail across Hermione's cheek. She recoiled, away from the gun. The Muggle grabbed her by the jaw and forced her to stay still. "Now that I know how much she means to you, maybe I'll let the boys here take a turn with her." Draco's blood heated. "Mr. Peverell here needs a new heir, now that you've run off with his last one. Perhaps Miss Granger would be a suitable broodmare."

The group paused. The wizard removed his cloak. Draco recognized him, but only in flashes. During the Battle, at Malfoy Manor, probably at his Death Eater initiation.

Draco kept his mouth shut. He was curious, but he wouldn't bite.

"Who is your heir?" Ron asked. Draco's eyes shut of their own accord. Of course, it was Ron.

"Ophelia," Hermione whispered in incredulous realization. "But she's-"

"Shut up!" Bellatrix dug her nails into Hermione's face. Hermione whimpered, then fell silent.

"A squib," Peverell spat.

"But Peverell blood is still valuable," Bellatrix said. "It would be the best thing to ever happen to you," she told Hermione.

"Bellatrix," Draco said again. "Please."

"How much are you willing to sacrifice?" she asked.

 _Anything._ But she couldn't know that quite yet. He thrust the beads in front of him, practically begging her to take them out of his hands.

"And the Sword."

Draco hesitated but resisted looking back at Potter. _That hadn't been part of their plan._

 _"_ Draco, don't," Hermione said.

" _Silencio,_ " Bellatrix said. Hermione's jaw snapped shut, but her eyes still pled with him.

"Give me Hermione first."

Bellatrix shook her head. "Necklace first. Then the Mudblood, then the Sword."

Draco ground his teeth. "Sword first."

Bellatrix cocked an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Draco placed the Sword on the ground and slid it across to her. It clattered across the cobblestones before coming to a halt at the Muggle's feet.

Bellatrix picked it up. "You've tricked me with a false sword before," she said, speaking directly to Harry Potter. "How do I know this is the real one?"

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. "I guess you'll have to try to destroy your bloody Horcrux to make sure."

Bellatrix snorted. She hoisted Hermione to her feet by her collar and inched forward, holding out her hand for the rosary. Hermione shook her head, eyes widening as they approached Draco. His hands tightened on the beads as he stretched out his wand. He tried to smile at her, to tell her everything was _fine_ , but it was more of a grimace.

Bellatrix held out her arm, blocking the Muggle and Hermione from moving forward. "I want one more thing."

Potter took a step forward. Draco narrowed his eyes. Bellatrix was playing it off like she was indifferent to the fate of the Horcrux, but Draco knew better. He saw the tense curve of her shoulders, the softness in her lips, the sharp look in her eye. She was desperate. 

Her eyes drifted to the Muggle, who moved the gun to Hermione's thigh and fired.

Her mouth opened, but the Silencing Spell prevented her from screaming.

Draco's vision tinged red as he rushed forward. " _Accio gun!_ " The nearest gun from one of the Muggles behind him shot into his hand. He fumbled to place his fingers in the correct place. He'd never held a gun before, but hopefully, Bellatrix didn't know that.

Bellatrix clicked her tongue. "Give me the necklace, or the next one goes in her head." Draco flexed his fingers.

Tears streaked down Hermione's face, but she still shook her head, adamant that Draco not give up the Horcrux.

He tossed the rosary to the side and lifted the gun again. Bellatrix lifted her chin, weighing her options. "Kill them."

Draco's finger twitched on the trigger as his breath hastened. Hermione's chest rose and fell rapidly. The Muggles began to close ranks and Draco turned in a wide slow circle as they neared. The man holding Hermione still held the gun to her head.

Bellatrix, with slow, deliberate strides, picked up the rosary. Draco's breath caught in his throat as she examined it. She smirked. "Kill them all." With a dramatic flourish of her robes, she disappeared into thin air, with Peverell right behind her. Draco let out a sigh of relief. 

" _Expelliarmus!_ " He pointed his wand at the Muggle, surprised when it worked, and the gun flew from his hand. From there, it was easy to incapacitate him with a Body-Bind curse. The man let go of Hermione as he dropped to the ground like a stone. Draco rushed forward to catch her when she stumbled forward and quickly passed her to Potter. 

" _Imperio_!" Draco shouted, while Ron and Luna erected shields around them. The Imperius Curse was effective, but it wasn't efficient. While it only took a second for someone acting of their own accord to lift and fire a weapon, it took significantly longer for the Muggles to carry out Bellatrix's order, depending on the strength of their willpower. He thought back to his fourth year, when Mad-Eye Moody, or rather, Barty Crouch Jr., had taught them about the Unforgivable Curses. Potter had been able to resist. Maybe some of these Muggles would be able to resist until they escaped. 

If there was one thing he'd learned this year, it was that Muggles and Muggleborns were a hell of a lot stronger than he gave them credit for.

He aimed his gun at their feet, hoping that would get them to retreat.

" _Imperio_!" Ron shouted from beside him. Ginny followed suit. "Start Apparating," he ordered. "Ginny, hold the Shield Charm until everyone gets out."

Draco cast one final Imperius Curse, before Apparating to Zabini Manor. He landed on the front steps and stumbled as he began to run before his feet hit the ground. "Granger!" he shouted, throwing the door open and running down the empty hallway. The only light came from the moon. " _Lumos._ " A thundering _crack_ sounded from Draco's right side. "Potter? Hermione?"

He ran through the hallway, stopping when he reached the grand staircase. Hermione was leaning against Harry's side, panting, with sweat gleaming across her forehead.

"We have to get word to Snape," Harry said, holding Hermione's hand.

"I'll send him a Patronus," Luna volunteered. Draco jumped at the sound of her voice; he hadn't known she was there. With a wave of her wand, Luna lit the sconces lining the wall.

Harry held Hermione tighter as he sat her down on the steps. She made a face as she stretched her leg out.

Draco knelt on the bottom step and grabbed her hand. "Are you okay?" he asked. She shrugged, widening her eyes. "Shit." He extinguished the light on the end of his wand. " _Finite_."

She let out a gasp of pain.

Draco flexed his hands, hovering over the bloody wound. "I don't know what to..." he trailed off. "How do you fix a bullet wound?"

Harry offered his hand for Hermione to squeeze. "Get the bullet out," she ground out. Draco's eyes widened.

"Maybe we should wait for Snape?" Harry suggested.

Hermione shook her head. "It fucking _hurts_!"

If their situation weren't so dire, Draco might have laughed. She was usually so articulate. He hesitantly lifted his wand. " _Accio bullet_." It flew into his hand. Hermione let out another cry of pain. "Seems like that was medically irresponsible," Draco muttered as he rolled the metal ball between his fingers. It was difficult to fathom how Muggles had turned such a small instrument into a deadly weapon.

"We can discuss the merits of various medical practices later," Hermione groaned. "Please, make it stop," she panted.

"We're out of healing potions," Luna said. Draco started, once again, at her sudden presence. "Snape is back. He's making more, but for now, all I have is Numbing Potion." She handed the vial to Hermione, who downed it one gulp.

Draco eyed the sun, which had begun to rise over the horizon. He offered his hand to Hermione. "Let's you get you cleaned up."

Not without effort, Harry and Draco lifted Hermione to her feet. When it became clear she couldn't put any pressure on her right leg, Draco picked her up. "This is ridiculous," she muttered, but she slung her arms around his neck and let her head rest against his chest.

He set her down on a couch in the sitting room. "I'm going to take off your jeans." Hermione tensed but nodded.

Harry cleared his throat. "I'll do it."

Draco frowned. "I can-"

"For the love of _God._ " Hermione unzipped her jeans and tugged them off as far as she could without standing up. Draco pulled them off the rest of the way before lifting her bare leg to closer examine the bullet wound.

" _Tergeo_ ," he murmured, clearing the blood, but it continued to pour out of the wound. Draco's throat closed. He knew nothing about Muggle medicine. "Where's Snape?" He turned to Harry, who was pulling at his belt. "What the _fuck_ are you doing?"

"Tie it above the wound to stop the bleeding," he said.

Hermione's eyes widened. "You can't use a _belt_ as a tourniquet for a minor gunshot wound!"

Harry dropped his belt and ran a hand through his hair. "I saw it on a television show once."

" _A television show_?" she said incredulously, shaking her head. "Get some bandages. Just, put some pressure on it until Snape gets here with the Healing Potions," she hissed. Harry took the beaded bag from Hermione and rifled around until he found the bandages. He handed them to Draco, who wrapped them around Hermione's thigh.

"How's that?" he asked, tying them off.

She nodded. "I'd say I have at least a sixty percent chance of survival."

Draco sighed as he fell against the pillows next to her. "Don't joke about that."

She scoffed as she fingered the bandage.

Draco's head lulled against the back of the couch as he turned to face her. "I'm sorry."

She clenched her fist and bounced it against her thigh.

"Is the Numbing Potion working?" Harry asked.

She looked up at him, before nodding. A _crack_ echoed through the sitting room.

"That's probably Snape," said Luna. "Harry, let's go."

Harry frowned. "Why do you need me to go?"

"Hermione and Draco need some time alone."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Harry stood. "They spend plenty of time alone," he grumbled as he left.

Draco looked at the bandage. A scarlet stain was beginning to blossom across the white cloth. He reached over to rub her back. "Hermione, I'm so goddamn sorry."

She sighed as she leaned forward, away from his hands. She buried the heels of her hands in her eyes and rubbed. Draco continued. "I swear, if I had known she was after you, I wouldn't have suggested it, or you would have gone with Snape or stayed home. _Fuck._ I'm sorry. I should have stayed closer to you. I could have-"

Hermione dropped her hands. "Maybe we can talk about this when I'm not in quite so much pain?" she said through clenched teeth.

He moved closer to her, unsure of how to ease her pain. All he knew was when he was hurting, Hermione's presence always seemed to make him feel better.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

She let out an exasperated breath. A strand of hair flew away from her face before settling on her forehead. He brushed it away. "I'm not angry at you because I got hurt," she said. "I'm not angry at you at all, really. I'm frustrated and- and scared because we thought we would have a chance to kill her tonight, and instead, we lost the Horcrux, and the only instrument we had on hand to destroy the Horcrux and-- what? Why are you smiling?"

Draco wiped the smile off his face. "I forgot you didn't know," he said.

She frowned and recoiled, skeptical. "Don't know what?"

"Potter made a fake. We still have the real Horcrux."


	35. Chapter 35

_"You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long, hard slog."_

— Gilderoy Lockhart  
  


Hermione looked like the earth had dropped out from beneath her feet. "It was a fake," she repeated.

Draco nodded slowly. "Snape has the real one."

Hermione pulled at the roots of her hair. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Draco stared at the door, hoping that Potter and Snape would return soon. He rubbed his hands on his jeans as he stood. "Do you think you can make it to bed? Otherwise, I'll grab some pillows and blankets and we can sleep out here."

Hermione folded her arms. "You wanted to talk about tonight. Let's talk."

He sighed. "If we had been found out, you had to be able to deny it. Everyone did."

She braced her hands against the arm of the couch and struggled to her feet.

"Hermione, please," Draco said, placing his hands on her arms. She swatted his hands away. "I didn't know if she was going to perform Legilimency."

"I doubt it would have mattered. She'd kill me whether or not I knew." She didn't sound angry, only apprehensive. Depleted.

Exhaustion crept into his tone. "I had to try it." She flinched as she put too much weight on her injured leg. "Please, sit down until Snape gets here."

Reluctantly, she settled back into the couch. "Either way, that was all for nothing. We still lost the Sword."

Draco shook his head and sank onto the ottoman. "It wasn't a complete waste. She couldn't get out of there soon enough. Bellatrix knew the Muggles wouldn't be able to kill us on their own, but she still left. She's worried, and it's probably because we have the last Horcrux. We can use that to our advantage."

Harry returned with Ron, carrying three vials in his hands. "Where's Snape?" Draco asked, on-edge. Why had he left Weasley and Potter, of all people, in charge of Granger's care?

Harry ignored him and handed Hermione the first potion. "Drink that."

She uncapped it and downed it without hesitation as Harry knelt beside her.

"Seamus was shot," Ron explained to Draco. "Snape's healing him first. He'll be down in a few minutes."

"Oh my God," Hermione said. "Is he okay?"

"He'll be fine," Harry said, impatiently pulling at the bandages around Hermione's thigh. "Did you disinfect the wound?"

Draco shook his head. "I wasn't sure- with the bleeding."

Hermione hissed as Harry finished pulling the soiled bandage off. He offered an apologetic smile before looking at her bloodstained leg.

"It might need stitches," she said.

Harry hesitated, glancing at Draco. Draco just shrugged; he'd had very little healing training, and even less in Muggle medical treatments. "Let's just... _Tergeo._ " The blood on Hermione's leg vanished, but fresh blood continued to flow.

Her face had turned ashen and her eyelids were drooping. Draco squeezed her hand. "Hey, stay awake. Just until Snape gets here."

She nodded and blinked a few times. Harry dumped the second potion directly onto her wound. Her knee jerked, and she dug her nails into the palm of Draco's hand.

"Shit," Harry said. "Sorry. That should help with the bleeding. Pass me the bag?"

Ron handed it to him, and Harry quickly found disinfectant.

Hermione's head lulled to rest on Draco's shoulder. He closed his eyes and rested his check on the top of her head, content that she was still beside him, bullet holes and all. Then, her chest movements slowed.

"Malfoy!" Ron snapped. "Keep her awake."

 _Fuck._ "Hermione?" He patted her cheek. She hummed but didn't open her eyes. "Granger."

He needed to distract her, but suddenly couldn't find any topics of conversation. He'd taken it for granted, how easily they were able to slip into an argument or banter. Now, when it actually mattered, he couldn't find the words.

 _I love you_. He should have said it the day before. He would have said it now if it weren't for Potter and Weasley.

Instead, he said, "I've read Jane Austen." Her eyes fluttered as she lifted her head to look at him. "And Dickens, and Shakespeare. Even Faulkner." If she weren't still so pale, he would have chuckled at her look of confusion. "You were so confounded by the fact that I'd never read Tolstoy, but my mother would have a fit if you thought she hadn't instilled in me an appreciation for literature. Even Muggle literature."

She let out a shaky breath. "You know, some Wizarding scholars believed Austen to be a witch."

He leaned his forehead against hers, ignoring the look Potter was giving him as he finished cleaning the wound. "Do you concur?"

Hermione pulled away, just slightly, watching Potter lay out the thread and needle for her stitches. "I think it's sometimes hard for men— wizards— to imagine that women can be extraordinary without magic."

He could feel her breath against his lips, warm and uneven. "There are many different kinds of magic."

Ron cleared his throat and stuck out his tongue, miming a gag. "Is this what pillow talk is for you two?"

Draco glared at him. _He'd_ been the one to tell Draco to keep Hermione awake.

"Did you take the potions?" Snape appeared like a shadow in the doorway.

She nodded.

"Not the last one," Harry confirmed.

Hermione shifted so a pillow was covering her underpants. Snape took Harry's place and picked up the needle. "This has been disinfected?" Potter nodded. Snape turned to Hermione. "Did you take a numbing potion?" he asked.

She nodded, reaching for Draco's hand again. Without preamble, Snape sank the needle into Hermione's soft flesh.

Snape worked quickly; his fingers deftly threading the needle in and out of her skin. Draco watched with grotesque fascination as the blood-stained skin folded in on itself until it was reduced to a thin, uneven line of sutures.

Ron wrapped a fresh bandage around her stitched skin.

"Keep it clean," he ordered Draco. "Change the bandages every six hours, even if it's not bleeding. Make sure her leg is elevated for at least another day or two."

Then, silent and reticent as he'd appeared, he left.

"Last one," Ron handed her the final vial. "Blood-Replenisher."

She nodded and accepted it gratefully, throwing it down her throat like it was a cool glass of water, and she'd been wandering the desert for forty days.

"Ready for bed?" Draco asked, reaching to slip his arm beneath her shoulders.

She shook her head. "I'm too tired." She tucked her feet under her knees and rested her head against his shoulder. "I'm fine right here."

Harry patted her head, and Ron dropped a quick kiss to her cheek as they left. "Talk to you tomorrow, 'Mione."

"I told you not to call me that," she grumbled, closing her eyes.

Draco inhaled. She needed a shower. He kept his eyes open, staring at the bandaged wound on her thigh until the image was seared into the forefront of his mind. A permanent etching; worse than any scar, or Dark Mark carved onto his skin. He stood abruptly. "I'll get you some blankets," he said, avoiding her gaze.

She snaked her fingers around his wrist, beneath the sleeve of his sweater. Her grip was weak, but Draco was no mountain anymore; it didn't take much effort to move him. It didn't take much convincing from her to make him obey. He stilled. "Stay." He stayed. He sat. He let her curl into his side. And he swallowed.

The sight of her threatened to unravel him as quickly and easily as his fraying, threadbare sweater. "I'm sorry," he said again, wishing the word didn't feel so small.

If he whispered it into the void enough times, perhaps it would begin to mean something.

As it were, his words were worthless.

The last time she'd been hurt because of him, when she jumped in front of the Cruciatus Curse, he didn't think he'd have done the same thing for her. Looking at her now —sweaty and pale and tear-stained and bloodied— there was no question. If he could go back, he'd jump in front of her in a heartbeat.

She ran a finger along his jawline. He was in need of a shave. He leaned into her touch, savoring the feel of her nail against his stubble. _"And now that you don't have to be perfect,_ " she recited, " _you can be good._ "

He wondered if Steinbeck had really meant what he wrote, that perfection and goodness were mutually exclusive. Maybe, if he had met Hermione Granger, he would have thought differently. _Or maybe not,_ Draco thought. Perfection was an undecaying, everlasting state of being. It made no allowances for deviation. Goodness demanded a choice, and no matter how many times the world and her circumstances tried to convince her otherwise, Hermione had always chosen to be good.

Headstrong, and stubborn, and often infuriating, but good nonetheless.

She believed he could do the same.

Draco dropped his mouth to hers in a rough bout of pain, and anger, and longing, and desperation before pulling away just as hastily. He wished Steinbeck, or Austen, or Dickens had words adequate to describe the way he felt toward her at that moment.

He couldn't fathom the idea of such words existing.

Perhaps Tolstoy had them. If only Draco had ever bothered to read him.


	36. Chapter 36

_"Life is worth nothing without the ones you love."_

— Severus Snape

"Are you sure you don't want help?" Ginny called from outside the shower door for the third time.

Hermione braced her hands against the tiled walls. "I'm not an invalid."

"Just making sure." Ginny held out another towel, in which Hermione wrapped her hair. "I think Draco might murder me if anything happened to you. And then Ron and Harry would murder Draco."

"I imagine Pansy would then murder Ron and Harry," Hermione said, sitting down on the toilet to finish drying off.

Ginny shrugged and handed her a pair of clean sweatpants and a tank top. "Best to keep you alive for now, I think. Save ourselves a bit of trouble."

Hermione snorted as she allowed Ginny to help her into her clothes. Draco had offered to be the one to help, but she'd refused. The self-inflicted nail marks on her skin had mostly healed, but she still wanted to cover the bullet wound and Mudblood scar around him as much as possible. Their presence—and the underlying threat— was ubiquitous to her, but he didn't need the constant reminder of his family's cruelty.

"Where is _His Royal Highness?_ "

Hermione offered a tired smirk as she shrugged into a cardigan. "Out for a run with the Slytherins, I think." She wrangled her hair into a loose plait. She sighed, reaching out to grip Ginny's arm to support her as she hobbled out of the bathroom. "How's Seamus?"

"Better," Ginny said, leading the two of them back to Hermione's room. "Harry's been with him. Said it was a shoulder wound, clean shot."

Hermione blew a strand of hair that had escaped her braid out of her face. "How did we end up here?"

Ginny shrugged and helped Hermione back into bed. "I've been asking myself that for the last seven years."

A sharp stab of pain shot up Hermione's leg. She flinched. Ginny squeezed her hand. "I'll let the Prince know you're in here when he gets back."

Hermione shook her head. "Tell him to let me sleep. He-" She swallowed and shook her head. "He can't spend all his time worrying over me."

Before Hermione's eyes closed of their own accord, Ginny slipped out the door.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶ ⚯͛ ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

"At least _try_ to keep up!" Pansy called over her shoulder as she jogged up the gravel path that led back to the Manor. Draco panted and braced his hands on his knees. Theo patted him on the shoulder as he walked past him.

"You've really let yourself go, mate," Blaise said, laughing.

Draco rolled his eyes and wiped the back of his hand across his brow. "Quidditch... works different... muscles," he panted.

"Keep telling yourself that," Theo said. They entered through the back door, which connected to the library. Momentarily allowing himself to forget what his aunt had done to Hermione, Draco expected to see her sprawled across one of the couches, captivated by a novel. Instead, he saw Harry and Ron sitting across from each other, speaking in intense whispers.

Pansy brushed right past them, not even bothering to make eye contact. Blaise offered a polite nod before following her out. Draco shifted his weight. His friends had taken an apprehensive liking to Hermione, if only for his benefit, and Ginny and Luna were usually kind enough to the Slytherins, but Potter and Weasley were still unbreached territories. Potter continued to save his life, and Draco —though he would never admit it— wouldn't hesitate to take a hex for either of them. But that didn't mean they liked each other.

It was Theo who broke the silence. "What have you two been up to?"

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. "Just trying to figure out our next steps," Harry said. "But we were just about to take a break."

Draco nodded, taking a step back to allow the Gryffindors to pass. He couldn't bring himself to meet Potter's eyes. Harry had thought Hermione would be safe with him because of some perverse affection Bellatrix still harbored for him. They couldn't have been more wrong; Bellatrix kept Draco alive because she had something worse than death planned, and, wretchedly, that included torturing Hermione. Whether they would admit it or not, Hermione was safest far away from Draco. Potter would soon draw that conclusion on his own, but Draco wanted to delay the inevitable as long as possible. As long as he could without risking Hermione's safety.

Ron smirked at Draco's show of deference, clearly misreading the mood. He repressed a sigh.

"Don't look so bitter," Theo said when Ron and Harry were out of earshot. "That's what you get for shagging Gryffindor's Golden Girl."

"Small price to pay," muttered Draco.

A dull _thud_ drew their attention across the row of books. A lone tome lay between two bookshelves.

Theo drew his wand and crept in the direction of the sound. Draco followed suit. He picked up the book _. Don Quixote._ How fitting.

The room was empty, as far as Draco and Theo could see. " _Homenum revelio,_ " said Theo. Nothing. "Maybe it was the wind?"

Draco scoffed and replaced the book. As he pulled his hand back, he heard a sharp intake of breath. He paused, glancing at Theo, and cocking an eyebrow. Then, with all the swiftness and dexterity of a cobra, he reached out. His fingers brushed thin fabric, and he tugged, revealing a little girl. Ophelia Peverell.

She took an instinctive step back before her shoulderblades collided with the bookshelf behind her. The Invisibility Cloak dangled from Draco's fingers. "Taking things that don't belong to you?" he asked, his stormy eyes growing darker. As the words left his mouth, he regretted them. The Cloak _did_ belong to the Peverell's. An argument could be made that it was just as much Ophelia's as Harry's.

"I'd be more concerned that she's eavesdropping," Theo said, taking a threatening step forward. "Wouldn't want her reporting back to her father and Bellatrix."

Ophelia reached for the Cloak. Draco pulled it out of reach. She sidestepped the boys, but Theo threw out an arm, trapping her between them.

"What are you doing?" Draco looked up to find Ginny standing in the center of the room, arms crossed, one hip jutted out. Ophelia took the opportunity to escape Draco's punitive stare and ran to Ginny's side.

"She stole your boyfriend's cloak." Draco held up the evidence.

"She's a child," Ginny said.

Draco shrugged. "I knew not to steal when I was her age."

She narrowed her eyes. "Did you also know that being a Death Eater was wrong? Or did you just not care?"

Draco scoffed, but let his arm fall to his side. She'd gotten a lot sharper since she'd defended Potter at Flourish and Bott's right before his second year, he had to admit. But he'd grown too. That was the thing about being raised by Death Eaters; one either acclimated or was eliminated. Tedious and fearsome as it had been, living right beneath Voldemort and Bellatrix's noses, for lack of a better turn of phrase, Draco had come out stronger. He might have backed down from her older brother, but Draco would not bow to the girl's vain intimidation tactics. No matter how trivial and petty the argument seemed to be — and it was — he would not stand for any more Weasley disrespect. Besides, he hadn't forgotten about the time she'd used a Bat-Bogey Hex on him in his fifth year. He was still plotting revenge for that one.

"Get out of my way, Weasley," he said, pulling out his wand.

Ginny stepped in front of Ophelia, shielding her.

"I'm not going to hurt her; just _Obliviate_ her. As a precaution."

The redhead hesitated. Ophelia looked up at her, eyes wide and glossy. Ginny offered a weak smile, before glaring at Draco. "Just this. Just in case."

He nodded and pointed his wand at her face. " _Obliviate_."

Ophelia blinked, before sinking further behind Ginny. "Satisfied?"

He nodded and tucked his wand away. "Where's Hermione?"

"Sleeping. You should let her rest." She placed her hands on Ophelia's shoulders and led the girl out of the library.

Frustration swelled like bile in Draco's throat, but he knew she was right. He turned to Theo. "I'm going to look through Bella's memories in the Pensieve if you'd like to join."

Theo blanched, but nodded and followed Draco to the Pensieve in the far corner of the library. Out of all of them, Theo had been the least involved in the war; he was the one who was out of his depth. There was no such thing as an innocent during times of war: only those who survived and those who didn't, but if there were, Theo would be the only one. Although he and Draco had never been the best of friends, Draco imagined his relationship with him was the closest he would get to understanding how Hermione felt about Harry. The fierce, fraternal protectiveness; the constant affection. The steadfast belief that, no matter their faults, they were _good_ at their core.

As his mind drew the comparisons, the more hesitant he was to share his aunt's memories with Theo. If he and Hermione felt the same way about Theo and Harry, respectively, the same couldn't be said for the reciprocal. Hermione was better than Draco could ever hope to be. After everything he'd done, he couldn't expect Theo to trust him the way Harry trusted Hermione. And he couldn't imagine Hermione had too many secrets she would be so desperate to hide from Harry.

It was too late to turn back now, no matter how much he wanted to protect Theo from the horrors of his family. A dull ache pressed on the back of his mind. He ignored it and sifted through the pile of vials that had been left by the Pensieve. He'd done his best to keep them organized, but they had been mixed up in their frantic exodus from Nottingham.

Nottingham. He wasn't sure why he was feeling so sentimental lately, but the knowledge that he could never return left a sour taste in his mouth. His best memories were there, under the stars, caught in Hermione's rapture.

The pain in his head intensified. He grunted in pain as the vial he held tumbled out of his hand and his knee pressed into the dark hardwood floor.

"Draco?" Theo asked, kneeling beside him.

The dull ache sharpened into a thousand tiny needle points, and suddenly, he saw Bellatrix as clearly as if she were standing in front of him. She was dressed immaculately in dark robes, holding the rosary in one hand, and the Sword of Gryffindor in the other. The sharp curve of her mouth, the knowing glint in her eye it was painfully, mercilessly familiar. And the familiarity of her didn't make her any less terrifying.

 _It's not real,_ Draco told himself.

Legilimency. Draco emerged from the trance, panting and shaking his head. "She knows the necklace is a fake," he coughed out. It was his first thought. The second was that he was saved from having to show Theo how much harm Bellatrix had done to their classmates. "We have to kill her. Now, before she kills us."

He knew their lie would not protect them for long, but he'd hoped for a little bit longer than this.

"What do we do?" Theo asked.

Draco dug the heels of his hands into his eyes as he leaned back. "I don't know. I mean, we have to destroy the real one, but we lost the Sword of Gryffindor and the only other way I know to destroy a Horcrux is-"

"Fiendfyre."

Draco lifted and dropped his chin in a single, solemn nod. He assumed Blaise and Pansy had filled him in on Crabbe's final moments.

"Snape will be able to contain it," Theo said, his voice shaky. "Or... Granger?"

His fingers curled into fists at the sound of her name. He flinched, as if the mere suggestion of an opportunity to throw herself headfirst into danger would bring her running across the Manor.

Despite his insatiable anger toward Bellatrix every time he thought about Hermione's bullet hole, he couldn't help but feel it served at least one purpose. _Maybe it will finally keep her away from a battle_ , he thought.

But that was unfair. He knew it. She'd spent years fighting this war, working up the courage and the strength to fearlessly and tirelessly fight for what she believed. Draco had been a pawn, used when convenient, but nothing to lose sleep over if he was taken out of the game. Though he was desperate to prove himself to be different from his father and aunt, he wouldn't disregard Hermione's autonomy to do so.

No matter how much Draco hated it, she deserved to make her own decisions.

Still, if she _was_ sleeping, he wouldn't wake her for this.

He raked a hand through his hair, Bellatrix's discarded memories forgotten.

"We have to find her, right?" Theo asked.

Draco nodded, rubbing his hand on the side of his face. Suddenly, nothing seemed more important than shaving his face. "Yeah." He wracked his mind for all the places she could possibly be. The Manor, Hogwarts, the Ministry, one of the countless safehouses that she and Voldemort had set up over the past decade. "Unfortunately, that means we have to speak to Potter."


	37. Chapter 37

_"Time will not slow down when something unpleasant lies ahead."_

—Harry Potter

The older Draco got, the more uncomfortable he became in Harry Potter's presence.

He wondered if it would always be this way. After all, they'd worked together before. Potter had rescued him from the Fiendfyre, and they'd created the false Horcrux, but their default was still a tense, unspoken animosity. He couldn't help but imagine himself and Hermione, ten years in the future, hosting Christmas dinner, with Potter and Weasley still sulking about her choosing him.

He could almost hear her retort. " _You've had ten years to get over it, Ronald,_ " she'd say.

Ten years.

Draco stopped his train of thought before it could derail. He still hadn't properly told Hermione he loved her. And _she'd_ only said it because she was literally being held at gunpoint.

"I think we should wait until she's back at Hogwarts," Ron said, staring at the blank map before them. "If we have the map, we'll have an advantage."

Draco rested his chin on his hand, staring at the Marauder's Map. It was unlikely that any movement would occur on the parchment, but he couldn't look away. "But who knows when that will be?" he asked. "Let's do some recon and strike now before she has time to make any more Horcruxes."

Hermione had, in fact, awakened, but Draco and Ginny had asked Luna and Neville to occupy her while they, and Harry, Ron, and Theo, met to discuss their next steps. He felt a weight in his chest; the crushing guilt of keeping her out of the loop.

He recalled his earlier conversation with Pansy, about Hermione's desire to be seen as a hero, and wondered again if he was being selfish, or an overprotective boyfriend.

Boyfriend. He cringed at the word. Never mind that they hadn't actually defined their relationship in explicit words; _boyfriend_ just seemed too juvenile a word.

He shelved the thought for another day if the day ever arrived that they were no longer being hunted by Bellatrix and the Death Eaters. He wasn't being overprotective. He was precisely the right degree of protective, considering Hermione's record with Death Eaters. Besides, they were merely planning at the moment, and as much as he valued her opinion, he had a feeling it would only lead to disagreements and give her more stress.

"Either way," Ginny mused, "we should destroy the Horcrux. Immediately."

That was the other reason Draco was glad Hermione wasn't present: she couldn't gloat about being right the first time.

"We don't have the Sword," Harry reminded them.

"Fiendfyre?" Theo suggested. Draco felt an ache in his stomach. Theo was thrilled just to be a part of the conversation, but Draco didn't want this for him. Still, he couldn't pretend he didn't understand. For the first time, Draco didn't feel a black cloud hanging over his head. He felt like he was doing something productive, helpful, even.

"Maybe," Harry said, but he didn't sound confident. It was risky, but it was their only option.

"We could go back to Hogwarts," Ron said. "If we have to go back anyway, we might as well get-"

"Basilisk fangs?"

Draco's head whipped to face the door, where Ophelia stood, dwarfed by the doorframe. His eyebrows knit together as he glanced between Potter and the young girl. _Basilisk fangs_. He remembered the Basilisk from their second year; it was all anyone could talk about for months. Saint Potter, only 12 years old, defeating another monster. But the fangs. When had he heard about Basilisk fangs?

"What do you know about Basilisk fangs?" Ron asked warily.

Draco drummed his fingers against his thigh. Hermione must have mentioned it to him at some point. Or perhaps his father. Maybe he'd overheard it from Professor Snape.

Ophelia shrugged and sank behind the wall.

"Wait!" Harry called.

Obediently, she stepped back into the light. "I overheard you two talking about it the other day."

Draco's head shot up to Ginny, whose eyes never strayed from Harry. "The other day?" he asked.

"Draco caught her eavesdropping," Ginny explained. "With the Cloak."

Ophelia took another step back and disappeared into the hallway.

"But I _Obliviated_ her," Draco insisted.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well, you obviously didn't do a very good job."

Draco frowned and turned his focus back to the conversation at hand. "A Basilisk fang will destroy the Horcrux?"

Harry nodded, running his finger over the fraying edges of the Map. "It's how we destroyed the Diary and the Cup."

"Well, let's get some," Draco said as if it were that simple. "How do you get to the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Its entrance is in the girls' bathroom on the second floor," said Ginny. Harry glared at her. Ginny rolled her eyes. "Hermione will tell him if I don't," she said. 

"How do you open it?" Draco asked, growing impatient. 

"You have to speak Parseltongue, and then the pipes-" Ron continued. Harry continued to stare at the Map, pointedly, waiting for everyone to catch on. "Oh."

Draco leaned forward. "Oh? You are a Parselmouth, are you not? I heard you, during our duel, second year."

"Only because a piece of Voldemort was inside of me," Harry explained. Draco flinched at the name. He wondered if that word would ever lose its sting. "Now that it's gone, and he's gone, I'm not. Unless you're friendly with any descendants of Salazar Slytherin, we'll need to find another way."

"Oh," Draco echoed.

"I got in last time," Ron said, but he didn't sound at all confident. Draco tried not to let his confusion show on his face. It must have been dumb luck. If Parseltongue could be learned, Hermione would have been fluent before she stepped foot on Hogwarts' grounds.

"Is Snape..." Draco let his question hang in the air, unfinished and unanswered. He knew before the words even formed on his tongue. He would know if Snape were. "Hermione will know. Or at least, she'll be able to find out. how"

Harry nodded feebly, expressionless. Whether it was because he agreed with Draco, or he simply wanted him to leave wasn't clear. He didn't bother to push his chair in as he stood and exited the library. Ophelia still stood in the hallway, half-hidden behind a marble statue. Draco scowled at her as he passed.

He found Hermione in their bedroom, a blanket tucked underneath her chin as the ready _The Illiad._ Her tongue poked out the corner of her mouth and her eyebrows were pulled together as her eyes scanned the page. "Hey," Draco said, announcing his presence.

She blinked, having not heard the quiet creak of the door. The corners of her lips pulled apart in a lazy smile and she dropped the paperback on her stomach. "Hi." She pushed the blankets back and sat up, letting her legs dangle off the edge of the bed.

His eyes drifted to her legs, which, mercifully, were clad in a pair of Potter's sweatpants. He felt an involuntary, torturous pang in his heart from all the pain his family had caused her; all the pain _he_ had caused her. The angry slurs and violent threats. He wished he could blame his father for making him believe all the hateful rhetoric he had spouted, but there had been other influences on his life. He'd spent more of the past seven years at Hogwarts than at home, anyway. He could have turned a new leaf if he'd wanted to, but he hadn't. He'd wanted to believe he was special, superior to Granger and Potter and Weasley in some way.

"I love you," he said, surprising himself. Not that the words or the sentiment were a surprise, but if he'd had more foresight, he would have planned something uncharacteristically romantic. Regardless, as he stood before her, reflecting on all the hurt and hate he'd felt and projected in his past, nothing seemed more important than letting her know that he was capable of more. And loving her was _more_ _,_ in every sense of the word. He took a step forward, close enough to touch her, and hovered over her, resisting the urge to sink to his knees. 

Still seated, Hermione rested her hands on his hips and smiled up at him. "You already know I love you." He closed his eyes and the distance between them. She pressed her cheek against his abdomen as he curled around her, tangling his fingers in her hair.

It was a relief to hear the words when they were both safe, wrapped in each other's arms. "Remind me," he whispered. She pulled back, and he heard her breath hitch as she caught his eye. He smiled, comforted by the fact that she felt his rapture as much as he felt hers. She fisted her hand around his shirt and pulled him impossibly closer. He lifted himself onto the bed, so his knees hugged her hips. She lay down, bringing him with her, before pressing her lips against his.

"I love you," she said, breathless against his lips, peppering kisses across his jaw.

Draco bucked his hips against her, and she shuddered, despite the layers between them, before groaning softly.

"What's wrong?" he asked, launching himself off of her.

She shook her head as she sat up. "Nothing. The wound is still a little sore."

Draco blanched. "Has Ginny been changing the bandages?"

She nodded, placing a ginger hand over her thigh. "Yeah, it's fine. We just... might need to wait a little bit longer before doing anything too rough."

Draco dropped a kiss to her forehead as she leaned against him, settling between his legs as he rested against the headboard. "I'm sorry," he said, but he was struggling to contain his laughter.

"So, what have you and Harry been up to?" she asked, folding the corner of the page to mark her place in her book. Draco forced himself not to flinch. Lucius and Narcissa were very particular about their books; Draco had never been permitted to crack the spines, fold the pages, or mark the text. He would have expected the same idiosyncrasies from Hermione, but after seeing her collection of torn, annotated paperbacks, he supposed it made sense. A library of pristine tomes was just groups of words on pages; a waste of trees. A shelf full of worn, torn, battered, and well-loved books represented something more. It was leaving a bit of oneself in the story. It represented a journey.

He eyed her warily. "How did you know I was with Potter?"

Hermione tapped the tip of her index finger against the side of her nose. "Brightest witch of our age, remember?"

Draco pressed his lips together. "How could I forget?"

She smirked and pressed another chaste kiss where his jaw met his ear. "Luna and Neville came to ask me about the mating rituals of Bowtruckles, but couldn't tell me why they wanted to know. It didn't take me too long to deduce why."

"I didn't want you to worry about anything else."

"I'm always going to worry when you're involved."

He curled his fingers and ran his knuckles down the side of her face. "What do you know about Parselmouths?"

She shrugged. "Not much more than you do, I expect," she admitted. Draco wondered if she would have attempted to seem more knowledgeable if they hadn't been sharing a bed lately. He liked to think that she would have, that she felt comfortable enough to confess her weaknesses to him, and only him. "Are you trying to get to the Chamber of Secrets? Ron and I took most of the Basilisk fangs during the Battle, but I think they got lost in the chaos." She sat up and turned to face him. He found himself missing her warmth against his chest. "Now that Harry is Voldemort-free, I don't know any other way to get in."

Draco sighed. "Fiendfyre it is."


	38. Chapter 38

_"Accio Brain!"_

—Ron Weasley

"You don't have to be there for this," Hermione reminded him, buttoning up her shirt.

Draco tugged on a pair of fraying jeans. "You'll be there."

She blinked. "Yeah, but..." None of her friends died in the Fiendfyre.

"I said I wanted to go," he said, his tone brusque, but not angry.

"Okay," Hermione said, turning back to their small, shared closet. "Can I wear this?" she asked, holding up a maroon sweater that Draco had acquired.

He nodded. When she finished tugging it over her head, he stepped behind her, smoothing her collar over the soft fabric and kissing the side of her neck.

"Hermione!" A loud knock sounded on their door. Hermione closed her eyes and rested her head against Draco's chest.

"When Bellatrix is dead, you and I are taking off, and we'll go somewhere no one will interrupt us," Draco promised.

Hermione nodded, suddenly filled with new motivation to end this battle as swiftly as possible.

Harry pushed the door open. "Are you ready? Ginny's getting Snape and Kingsley."

Hermione nodded, freeing her hair from beneath her collar. Draco held the door for her, above her head, so she had to duck beneath his arm to pass through the threshold. "Thank you," she said.

His fingers brushed hers as he lowered his arm and took his place beside her. "I can be chivalrous."

She knew that all too well. 

Harry led the way to the garden, making surprisingly easy conversation with Draco as they walked. "Malfoy, did you get breakfast? We can stop in the kitchen if you need."

"I'm good, mate. Thanks."

Hermione knew they'd be back to ignoring each other soon enough. They were only ever cordial in her presence, and even then, not always. Still, it warmed her heart to know they were at least _trying_.

She curled her fingers around the sleeves of Draco's jumper, trying not to let her pain show on her face. Magical remedies worked best on magical maladies, and while the healing potions had closed the wound, there was not enough numbing potion in the world to keep the pain away for more than an hour or so at a time. Harry noticed her slight limp and frowned at her, but she simply shrugged in response, and quickened her pace. She reached the door first and held it open for Harry and Draco, wanted to draw as little attention to her struggle as possible.

The air was frigid. Summer was fading into an early autumn, and Hermione couldn't help but mourn the passing of another season. Just weeks ago, the air had been warm. Professor McGonagall had been alive. But Hermione had not been waking up in Draco's arms. She wasn't exchanging sly smiles with him across the breakfast table.

She felt guilt settling over her shoulders like a thin layer of dust: light, nearly invisible, but impossible to dispel. She wasn't happy that the war had happened, even if it had led Draco to her. Still, some part of their relationship would forever be stained by the death and destruction that surrounded their circumstances.

But the logical part of her mind knew that grief and joy weren't mutually exclusive. Besides, if the war hadn't happened, and blood prejudice didn't exist, Draco and Hermione would have ended up together anyway; she was sure of it. It was the natural of order things.

She felt Draco's arm brush against hers; a simple, silent gesture of comfort. The rest of the Order formed a circle in the backyard. Ron knelt in the center, adjusting the rosary on the grass. Theo and Pansy stood off to one side, aggressively whispering and gesturing at the necklace. Without another look toward Hermione, Draco took off to meet them.

"You look like shit."

Hermione jumped, flinching at the pain in her leg when she landed back on the ground. Blaise had snuck up on her like a wraith in the shadows. She shifted her weight to her other leg, trying to hide her discomfort. Blaise had always seemed like one of the friendlier Slytherins, along with Theo, but his imposing presence, his dark, penetrating gaze, and his quiet confidence were enough to send a chill down Hermione's spine.

"Good morning to you, too," she said, refusing to let her sardonic facade fall for even a moment.

Unfazed, he lifted his arms above his head, never letting his protective gaze stray from Theo, Pansy, and Draco. Hermione followed it. Draco's head was bent forward, listening intently to Theo. She couldn't help but notice what a stark contrast the image was to what she had seen between Draco and the rest of the Slytherins just a few weeks ago. Now, they moved and spoke with such ease. Had it always been this way? Or had things really changed that much over the summer?

"I wanted to apologize," he said, "for all the nasty things I called you, earlier. On Pansy's behalf, as well."

Hermione kept her eyes on the curve of Draco's shoulders, the length of his legs, the softness in his knees, as she answered. "Draco already apologized for you both." She'd meant the words to be teasing, but as she spoke them, she realized that Draco's apology had been on his own behalf, and no one else's; not even Blaise's. He'd simply been too proud to speak his own faults between them, at least when it came to their school days.

Blaise took it in stride, almost as if he'd expected as much. "Consider this my apology for him, then. I doubt he's said it himself."

"Well, I appreciate that. Thank you," she said. Her fingers twitched, itching to scratch at her other wrist, but her hand stilled when Ron stood and took his place beside her. She clasped her hands behind back her instead.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Fine, how are you?" He glanced at her sideways. She rolled her eyes. "Better. You know, you have dirt on your nose?" she asked, rubbing her finger on the side of his nose, ridding it of dirt. "Nothing's changed," she joked to herself.

Ron shook his head, his lips tightening. "Everything's changed."

She sighed, wrapping an arm around his; clinging to him as tightly as she could, out of fear that when she let go, she'd be letting go of their childhood, their innocence. But in some respects, that had already been torn from their grasps. The worst part of it was that they didn't know how much more they'd lose.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, gently untangling his arm from Hermione's. "What is he wearing?"

She followed his eyes, settling on a disquieting image of Snape. "Oh, my God," she said, eyebrows shooting up.

He was wearing jeans.

Blaise let out a low whistle beside them. "Are things really getting that bad?"

"He must be out of robes," Ron chuckled. Hermione bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling.

If the other Slytherins were shocked by Snape's casual attire, they didn't show it. Hermione was impressed by the impassive facades plastered on Theo and Pansy's faces.

"Is it in position?" their former professor asked, standing at the periphery of the garden.

Ron nodded, while a chorus of affirmative whispers erupted across the grounds.

"Very well." Snape brandished his wand.

The blood in Hermione's veins pumped harder, faster, filling her eardrums. She fingered her wand as Snape raised his; an incantation lingered on the tip of her tongue, just in case Snape's attempt went wrong, or in case the Fiendfyre got out of control.

Doubt lodged itself in her brain, like a piece of shrapnel.

She believed Snape was part of the Order. Dumbledore did. Lupin did. Harry seemed to.

At the same time, there was no way to be sure.

Unless you knew someone who could perform Legilimency.

She eyed Draco out of the corner of her eye, but her gaze soon returned to the blossoming inferno before her. She took an instinctive step back as the hellish warmth kissed her face. But it crept closer. And closer. And closer.

Hermione froze, grip tightening on her wand as the Fiendfyre engulfed the garden. Beside her, she could hear Blaise yelling for Pansy. Snape raised his wand, keeping the fire at bay for now, but Hermione was sure he wouldn't be able to hold it for long. She cast a protective enchantment around herself .

"Hermione!" A hand clamped down on her shoulder. She lifted her chin to find Ron standing behind her. "Come on, we have to get out of here."

She shook her head. "The Manor," she said.

Ron pulled on her elbow. "Fuck the house," he said. "Let it burn."

Hermione lifted her wand, casting a wordless, futile spell at the raging hellscape. "Blaise was kind enough to offer us refuge," she said, aware that the situation was too dire for her to be so loquacious, but talking helped calm her nerves. "We will not repay him by burning down his home."

Thirty feet to her right, she saw Draco. His pallid features darkened his eyes. The sight of the hard set of his jaw only cemented her decision. If he was staying, she would go down with him.

Snape cast another spell, only marginally diminishing the size of the fire. At least it was something. Ron cursed under his breath, but Hermione ignored him. Behind her, Harry was herding Luna, Neville, Ginny, and Seamus inside.

The hairs on Hermione's forearms bristled as the air around her electrified. Despite the cold terror on her spine and the blistering heat on her face, the feeling of camaraderie and power between her and her fellow wizards was inimitable and intoxicating. She closed her eyes in a brief moment of ecstasy as the Fiendfyre shrunk beneath their fire. She reveled in the feeling of once again being in control.

When she opened her eyes, a flash of black barrelled past her and into the fire. The power was replaced with panic. Harry was pale as a sheet beside her. "What was that?" she demanded, taking a step towards it.

"Hermione," Harry wrapped his hand around her elbow. His eyes were watery, but he lifted his wand again. "Finish putting this out."

Hermione's eyes flashed between him and the fire. "Was it a person?" she shouted. "Who?"

"There's nothing we can do about it now!" Harry shouted.

Hermione's eyes widened. She clenched her wand between her fingers, scanning the semicircle of wizards. Her body betrayed her by releasing a shuddering sigh of relief when she saw Draco. Harry, Ron, George, and Snape were still there. Pansy and Blaise stood at Draco's side. She mentally ticked off each member of the Order, deducing who would have been stupid enough to run headfirst into one of the most dangerous weapons ever created.

No.

Not stupid, necessarily. Naive. "Ophelia." Hermione's voice cracked. Her stomach hollowed. She didn't know the young Squib very well, and to be honest, what she did know of her, she didn't quite like. Ophelia was quiet and strange and often impertinent, from what she'd heard.

Still, it was hard to not feel the profound loss of a child.

She released the intense concentration and let the energy she'd been feeling finish its course through her veins as she inched away from Harry and closer to Draco. The rest of the wizards had regained control of the Fiendfyre; it was now the size of a large bonfire, rather than a large house. The Horcrux was — hopefully — destroyed, and their next steps seemed clear. Kill Bellatrix. Regain control of the Ministry.

All Hermione wanted to do was sleep. But they had all sacrificed so much for this cause: Hermione least of all, she felt. Others had given their lives, she'd continue to give up her desire for comfort and security so the lives lost wouldn't be in vain.

The joints in her knuckles cracked as she flexed her fingers. After it was done, she would allow herself to feel something. For now, she had to keep moving, and do her best to protect the ones she still could.

The flame dulled.

"Fuck," Draco muttered beside her.

Her eyes darted between him and the wilting flame. A shadow emerged. Ophelia, unharmed, holding a pile of ash in her palms.


	39. Chapter 39

_"Twitchy little ferret, aren't you, Malfoy?"_

—Hermione Granger

Draco snaked his fingers around Hermione's wrist when she took a step forward. "Stop." The word was little more than a breath escaping his lips. Without moving her eyes from Ophelia, she peeled his fingers off her skin. Her grip was gentle, but to Draco, it felt like his own fingernails were being pried off. 

"Hermione, wait," Harry said. When he grabbed her arm, she didn't resist. A voice in the back of Draco's mind told him he should feel jealous, but frankly, he didn't have the energy. "That's not.. It can't be Ophelia. The Horcrux must be projecting something." 

Hermione faltered. She scanned the circle of brown, dead grass, the rising cloud of smoke, the smell of ash and dust, and Ophelia, standing unharmed right in front of her. "The Horcrux is destroyed." 

Draco eyed the pile of ash in Ophelia's hands. "That doesn't mean the magic doesn't... linger," he said.

Hermione sank to her knees and rubbed her hands on her jeans. Harry took a step forward, hovering protectively over her, glaring daggers at Ophelia. Draco kept his eyes on Hermione. 

"How is this possible?" Draco asked Harry under his breath. 

"It's not. The fire..."

"We have magic," Hermione said, holding out her hand for the ash. Ophelia poured it into her hands, and Hermione let it slip through her fingers onto the singed grass. "The realm of possibility is infinite." 

Draco sighed. For someone so intelligent, she really was naive at times. Perhaps it was because she'd been raised by Muggles. She'd been part of the Wizarding World for years now, but there was still some novelty, some whimsy to the world that he supposed had never worn off on her.

But this was all Draco had ever known; without his magic, and his pedigree, he'd be nothing. And he was _good_ at it _._ Despite all the progress he'd made with the Order, he'd be damned if he didn't make that known. 

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, resisting the urge to stick his nose in the air. "Magic still has rules." 

"For example," said Snape in his signature slow, deliberate drawl. As Hermione looked up at him, her shoulders hunched, like she had forgotten he was there. "Magic can only be performed by witches and wizards. Not Squibs." 

"And Fiendfyre is deadly," Draco said, bitterly. "We would know if there were a spell to protect someone from the effects." He couldn't bring himself to ponder what his life might have looked like if he had known a spell to protect his friends from its effects. 

"It was going to kill Dumbledore," added Harry. "A six-year-old Squib isn't going to be able to walk away without a scratch when it almost killed the powerful wizard of all time." 

And yet, it seemed like she had. 

Ophelia was now slowly backing away from Hermione, while Hermione sat back on her heels, head cocked to the side. "How can you be sure that you know all the rules?" 

Draco scoffed, more out of habit than anything. When he realized what he was doing, he shut his mouth, but not before Hermione's jaw ticked and locked. Snape and Potter paused.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, glancing between Hermione, Snape, and Draco. 

She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head, scrutinizing Ophelia. "Her father thinks she's a Squib because she can't _do_ magic, but that doesn't mean that she's not _magical_." 

As Hermione lifted her wand, it began to click in Draco's mind. The Fiendfyre hadn't burned her. He had tried to Obliviate her, but it hadn't worked. 

Harry clamped a hand on her shoulder. "Wait, what are you-"

" _Tarantallegra_ _,_ " Hermione whispered. Ophelia stood, stiff and silent as ever.

Harry released a soft huff of breath. "She's immune to magic." 

"Not exactly," Hermione corrected as she stood, brushing off the dirt on her jeans. Ophelia ran into the house, where Molly and Arthur were serving lunch. "She can side-along apparate, but anything that physically or mentally alters her state of being won't work."

"What about the Invisibility Cloak?" Harry asked. 

"The Invisibility Cloak doesn't alter your physical state. It's an outside agent that camouflages you into your surroundings. It makes you appear invisible, but it doesn't actually make you invisible. In theory, Muggles could create the same technology. I expect she'd be able to fly on a broom as well." 

Draco turned in a slow circle, examining the damage that the Fiendfyre had left, before settling his attention back on Hermione. "You're absolutely brilliant." 

She ignored him, evidently still bitter about his earlier reaction to her assessment of the situation. Nonetheless, the corners of her lips lifted at his words. 

Ron joined the crowd as the Slytherins inched closer, forming a semi-circle around Hermione. Hermione curled her fingers into fists, as her eyes darted between Harry and Draco. She took a step back, away from the pile of ash. 

"How does this change things?" Pansy asked arms crossed over her chest, wary of Ophelia's powers. Draco narrowed her eyes at her. She only winked in reply. 

_We go to the library to find out if this has ever happened before_ , he expected her to say. 

"It doesn't," Hermione said, mirroring Pansy's posture. "She's a _child._ She's staying out of it." 

"We have to use every weapon in our arsenal if we want to defeat Bellatrix." 

"We've stayed alive this far without leading children to the slaughter like pigs." 

"Isn't that how Voldemort was defeated though?" Pansy took a step forward. She towered several inches over Hermione, but the Gryffindor witch didn't cow under Pansy's condescending stare. "Dumbledore knew Potter would have no choice but to sacrifice himself. He just got lucky." 

Hermione shook her head and turned to Snape, cutting Pansy out of the circle. "Professor, what do you-"

"I am not your professor any longer, Miss Granger." 

Hermione's lips turned white as she pressed them together like she was repressing a scream. Draco, meanwhile, still could not look at Snape wearing jeans without feeling on the verge of cracking up. 

"Let's check the Marauder's Map," Ron said, reaching for her elbow. Her face relaxed as their shoulders bumped together. "If she's at Hogwarts, we'll go there. Agreed?" 

Potter and Hermione nodded and turned to return to the house. 

Draco caught Pansy's glare and shrugged, irritated but reticent. One could not argue with the Golden Trio once they came to a decision. 

"Wait," Draco said. Hermione glanced over her shoulder, one eyebrow cocked, like she was trying to challenge him, but the softness in her eyes was unmistakable. "If we go to Hogwarts, we'll be back on her turf."

Hermione glanced askew at Ron, who lifted his chin as he faced Draco. "What do you suggest?"

"We should lure her out." 

"How?" Harry asked. "We already tried that, and if you remember, Hermione ended up with a bullet in the leg."

"The ring," Draco said, looking at Hermione, who was shifting her weight at the mention of her gunshot wound. 

Her lips parted as her furrowed brows relaxed. "The ring," she repeated. "Do you have it?"

He nodded; it hadn't left his pocket since Hermione had given it to him back at Shell Cottage. The longer Hermione went without acknowledging it, the sillier he had felt for carrying it with him, and the guiltier he felt for allowing her to get hurt while retrieving it. It hadn't occurred to him that she had been so preoccupied that she had simply forgotten about it after they'd discovered the Horcruxes. He cupped it in the palm of his hand and held it out to her. 

" _That's_ supposed to make Bellatrix want to leave her fortress and come to her death?" Blaise asked. 

"It's a family heirloom," Hermione said, turning it over in her hand, but even she was starting to look skeptical. She looked up at Draco, her lips pursed. "You know her best. Do you think it'll work?" 

Draco hesitated, but eventually gave a resolute nod. She went back to studying the ring. His confidence, it seemed, was enough to convince her. 

"Oh, okay," Blaise said, running a hand over his cropped hair. "So we're supposed to believe that she cares enough about an ugly, old ring enough to come out here and meet us without backup? Granger, don't be dense."

"Hey," Draco stepped forward, exasperated, and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. Blaise shook it off. 

"We lost the Sword, which, if we're not counting the Fiendfyre—and I'm not—was the only way to destroy Horcruxes. The only thing we do have is a bloody ring, and a human shield you won't let us use." Blaise turned to the group. "Unless that's a Horcrux, it's useless. Think of a better plan." 

Hermione ran her fingers over the thin gold band. A thick, diamond stud glinted in the sun. With frown lines etched around her mouth and a soft wrinkle between her eyebrows, she appeared deep in thought. 

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Ron asked. 

Hermione handed the ring back to Draco. "This belonged to your mum?"

He nodded, turning it over in his hands. "Yeah, all the Black family heirlooms were split between her and Aunt Bella. My grandparents gave it to my father to give it to her as an engagement ring. She wanted to give it to me so I could give it to my future wife, but my father..." He trailed off, unsure why he was going on this tangent around so many people. Hermione stilled, an expectant expression on her face. "My father wanted me to marry for political power. He didn't see the point of giving her anything of sentimental value," he finished, his voice dropping off at the end of his sentence.

Hermione nodded and played with the hem of her sweater. "Andromeda didn't get any of the spoils?" 

Draco flinched at her choice of words, but grateful she didn't push on the subject of his family. He shook his head, trying and failing to follow her train of thought. "No. My grandparents practically disowned her for marrying a Muggleborn. She didn't get as much as a sickle when they died." 

"What about the knife?" 

"What knife?" asked Ron. 

"The first Horcrux." Hermione waved her hand impatiently. 

"I don't-" Draco started. "What about it? I've never seen it before." 

"Can't you ever just give us a straightforward explanation?" Harry muttered. Hermione glared at him. He held up his hands. "I only mean if you have a theory, it doesn't help anyone to keep it to yourself. We might be able to help." 

"I think the ring was meant to be the third Horcrux. Likely, her final one." With that, she spun on her heel and marched toward the door, ordering Ron to get the Marauder's Map after all. 

The Slytherins watched the trio retreat in the Manor. "Is she always like this?" Blaise asked. 

Draco froze for a brief moment, watching Hermione tie her hair into a messy bun atop her head. Her collar was still askew. He exhaled, ignoring Blaise, before jogging to catch up with the Gryffindors, who were already inside. "Do you mind explaining what you mean?" 

Hermione threw open the doors to the library and took a seat at the nearest table. Ron flattened the map in front of her before taking a seat beside her. Harry braced his hands on the back of Hermione's chair, leaving Draco to hover on the opposite side of the table. "The knife had the Black family crest on it, so it could be an heirloom, like the ring."

"It also had her initials on it," Harry said. "So it might not be that old." 

Hermione shook her head, unbothered by Potter's contradiction. "Regardless, it has some sort of significance to her and her Pureblood status. The ring," she nodded at Draco, "represents Narcissa's marriage to one of Lord Voldemort's most faithful servants. Not to mention, the continuation of the Black legacy, since it was meant for you."

"And the Black's history of inbreeding," Harry muttered under his breath. 

Once again, Draco cringed at her words. He had no delusions about his father, but it didn't hurt him any less to hear about his disreputable legacy and his entire family's expectation that he would carry it forward. 

"I still don't understand," Ron said. 

"There's a link," Hermione insisted, eyes growing wide. Draco could see the cogs moving behind her eyes, her theory taking shape, being formed like clay. 

"And the rosary?" Draco asked, taking the seat next to her. "It has nothing to do with the Black family legacy." 

"It's not about the _legacy_ , it's about the _significance._ A rosary is a-"

"Muggle artifact," Harry finished, left breathless by the revelation. Draco could have sworn his veins turned green when Potter figured it out before him. "Ted Tonks' family was Catholic." 

The library was silent for half of a heartbeat. Hermione's eyebrows were lifted, her lips parted. Draco realized a moment too late that she was looking for his approval. "I- Yeah." _Nice one, Malfoy. Very articulate._

"Three Horcruxes," Ron picked up the slack. "One for each sister?" 

Draco cracked his knuckles against the smooth, dark wood of the table. On the Marauder's Map, Death Eaters roamed the castle. His tongue dried when he saw Rodolphus Lestrange's name pacing by the second-floor girls' lavatory. "Except we only destroyed two, and as far as we know, the ring isn't _actually_ a Horcrux."

"But it somewhat narrows our scope. We need something significant to Narcissa," Hermione said, ever the optimist. 

"That could be anything," Draco sighed, praying to the stars that they wouldn't have to return to Malfoy Manor. 

"How do we know she didn't already create it?" Harry asked. "You have to kill someone in order to create one, but with the Ministry controlling the press, and the Death Eaters controlling the Ministry, it wouldn't be hard to keep it quiet." 

Hermione propped her chin on her hands and stared at the map. "Would she keep it at Hogwarts if she had?" 

Harry's eyebrows shot up. Hermione seemed to have the same realization at the same time. They locked eyes. "It's in-" she said. 

"But we can't-" 

"Maybe we can." 

Draco and Ron shared a brief look of commiseration and confusion. "Excuse me?" Ron coughed. 

"She's copying Voldemort. The locket was in the cave, the rosary was probably meant to be planted somewhere else: the Room of Requirement, or her Gringott's vault, like Voldemort," Harry explained.

Pulling the map closer to her, Hermione pointed at Rodolphus' dot, pacing in the hallway. "This bathroom is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, which Tom Riddle opened. It's where his first Horcrux was destroyed." 

"We've already established that we can't get into the Chamber of Secrets," Ron reminded them. 

"Harry can't," Draco said. "Because only Parselmouths can get in." The realization slowly dawned on him. 

"Parselmouths are descendants of Salazar Slytherin," Harry continued. "Which include the Peverell family, and we happen to have a Peverell that just might fit the bill." 


	40. Chapter 40

_"I'm hoping to do some good in the world!"_

—Hermione Granger

The cold tore through Hermione's sweater as if it were made of tissue paper. She shivered between Draco and Harry as they, along with Ron, Bill, Ginny, and Ophelia, stood in the center of Hogsmeade, staring at the castle looming before them. The Weasleys had all transfigured their hair to a more subdued color, while Draco had his hood pulled up over his head. Not that it would matter; if Death Eaters caught them, they would curse first and ask questions later.

"Where are they?" Ron asked, lifting himself on his toes to look at the Marauder's Map over Harry's shoulder.

"Still in the Great Hall," Harry said. Hermione felt his shoulders stiffen. She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Give them a few more minutes. George will go to the kitchens when it's safe for us to go up."

Hermione cradled her wand with both hands. Every few seconds, she threw a paranoid look over her shoulder. Bellatrix wasn't on the map, but it was only a matter of time before she found out what was happening at Hogwarts and came to put a stop to it. When she did, Hermione wouldn't let herself be used as a weapon against her friends again.

The rest of the Order were sweeping the castle, removing the threat of any Death Eaters. Hermione assumed they were primarily using the Bodybind Curse, but Snape had made it clear before they left that they were to incapacitate any Death Eaters by any means necessary.

She hoped Snape's orders wouldn't force any of her friends to become killers, but she supposed it was better to atone for their sins than to die before they had a chance. Once they destroyed the Horcrux in the Chamber of Secrets, Kingsley, Molly, Arthur, and Snape would Apparate to London to gather allies and retake the Ministry before they killed Bellatrix.

A chill settled over Hogsmeade like a heavy blanket. Hermione looked at Hogwarts. The top turrets were obscured by the fog, but she could still make out an amorphous shadow moving through the trees.

"Is that...?" Ginny pointed to the dark cloud speeding through the sky toward the castle.

Harry sucked in a breath. "A Dementor."

Hermione shivered again as a clammy coldness penetrated her bones. Draco's hand pressed into the small of her back. They stood crowded in an alleyway, out of sight from High Street, but not invisible to anyone curious enough. If one of them cast a Patronus, it would give away their location. Reinforcements would be called to assist the Death Eaters at Hogwarts, some of the Order would be killed, and they wouldn't make it to the Chamber of Secrets to destroy the last Horcrux.

If everything went according to plan, this would be the last time she stepped onto the Hogwarts grounds. If she could help it, she didn't plan on returning to the site of the massacre that had killed so many of her friends, her makeshift family. She'd never be able to walk the halls without thinking of Professor McGonagall, or Dumbledore, or Fred Weasley.

Hermione's eyes widened. "It's September." She wrapped an arm around Draco's elbow. "Has term started?"

Harry shook his head. "There are no students on the map. I guess they've closed the school this year."

Hermione released Draco's arm. He brushed his fingers against hers, and Hermione felt butterflies swarm in her gut. Maybe this was the end of Hogwarts. When they killed Bellatrix and finally dismantled the Death Eaters, they'd rebuild and restart, maybe somewhere in the south, somewhere a bit warmer. Hermione smiled at the idea.

"What's going on in the Gryffindor common room?" Bill asked. Seamus and Dean's dots were steady in the center, while three Death Eaters closed in on them.

"Should I go in? For backup?" Ron asked, on the edge.

Harry shook his head. "Not yet."

Hermione inhaled. Exhaled. She stretched her toes, feeling the steady ground beneath her. She leaned into Draco, savoring his warmth.

This was a moment. It was fleeting, but it existed. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she once again felt like they were traveling at the speed of light.

Ophelia stepped away from the brick wall and toward the path to Hogwarts.

"For the love of-" Ginny caught Ophelia by the collar and pulled her back to the group. "Why do you keep doing that?"

Ophelia pouted and took a seat atop Ginny's sneakers. Ginny threw up her arms and looked up at the sky with a scoff. Hermione couldn't help the nervous smile that crept onto her face.

It occurred to Hermione that Ophelia would not be able to speak Parseltongue, but given they had no idea how her magical abilities manifested, they had no choice but to work under the assumption that she could. Harry had tried to get her to speak it back in Aberdeen, but considering she had barely spoken two words of English, it seemed like a stretch. Harry had tried to ask her, but she was far too distracted by poking at his glasses to give them a straight answer. All they could do was hope that she understood the gravity of the situation and performed well under pressure.

Hermione looked at the young girl, sitting on the ground, knees tucked to her chest, drawing lines in the dirt. Ophelia looked up at Hogwarts longingly. Ophelia appeared to be seven or eight years old, by Hermione's estimates. Granted, it had been a long time since she had been seven years old, so her guess could have been far off. Regardless, Ophelia tended to behave much younger than she appeared.

"How are Seamus and Dean?" Ginny asked.

Harry was silent for a heartbeat. "Fine, it seems. They're moving back to the Great Hall." Harry folded and pocketed the map. "George just got to the kitchens. Let's go."

Ginny kept one hand on the back of Ophelia's shirt as she led the way up to the castle. Harry fell into step beside Hermione. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," she said, keeping her eyes straight ahead as she limped toward the castle. The sharp pain in her wound had faded into a dull ache.

Harry made a sound in the back of his throat.

She looked up at him. When had he gotten so tall? "I'll be fine when everything is back to normal." The words sounded foreign to her ears. _When everything is back to normal._ Harry, Ron, and Hermione had spent nearly half their lives fighting against Voldemort. What was normal? The last time Hermione had felt normal was the day before she'd received her Hogwarts letter from Professor McGonagall. She felt her throat close again at the thought of her favorite Professor. "I'll be fine when this is over," she amended.

Even that felt wrong. Harry had killed Voldemort, and yet, his spirit lived on in Bellatrix. Who was to stay tonight would be the end of it? The original Order of the Phoenix thought this war had ended 17 years ago when Voldemort's killing curse rebounded off of Harry.

"You're going to more than fine," Harry assured her in a whisper. His words warmed her insides and filled her with renewed confidence.

The castle grew larger with each step. Nearly everything, including the Whomping Willow in the distance, was still. Only the breeze moved between them and the occasional Dementor above them. Hermione kept her wand in front of her. Casting a Patronus would draw unnecessary attention, but that wouldn't matter if a Dementor got too close.

When they reached the top of the hill, Luna was holding the front door open. Draco whispered a small "thank you" to her as he entered; other than that, the only sound was the soft patter of their shoes on the marble floor as they trod through the main hallway. Ginny held her head high as she led the way to the second-floor corridor. Hermione tried to picture eleven-year-old Ginny, walk this route to the Chamber of Secrets against her will.

"We'll guard the door," Charlie said, nodding to Bill.

"Take the map," Harry said, handing the parchment over, though he looked reluctant to part with it. "We won't take long."

Ginny pushed the door open and led Ophelia to the sink, where the small figure of a snake was engraved in one of the taps. Ron followed close behind them.

"If there's trouble," Harry muttered to Bill once Ron and Ginny were out of earshot, "don't worry about us. I'll take care of Ron and Ginny; you two just save yourselves."

Charlie clapped Harry on the back and flashed a tight smile at Hermione. "Good luck."

Hermione walked into the bathroom to the beat of a funeral march.

"Say _open_ ," Ginny instructed, pointing to the engraved snake. Ophelia stood on the tips of her toes, thin fingers clinging to the edge of the porcelain sink. She peered at the snake, head tipping from side to side. " _Open,_ " Ginny repeated.

Hermione knelt beside them and braced a hand on Ophelia's shoulder. Ophelia jolted in surprise and stepped away from Hermione's touch.

"Open," Ophelia said in English. Draco sighed. Hermione looked at Harry, who stood, helplessly staring at them.

"Try again," he suggested.

Ophelia sank against Hermione's shoulders. Hermione braced her hands on Ophelia's waist. "Try again," she whispered and pointed to the sink.

"Open," Ophelia said again, pouring more power in her words. Nothing happened.

Hermione rocked back on her heels. "Can you try?" she asked Ron.

He scratched his chin as he stepped forward and bent low to examine the tap. He cleared his throat and made a few hissing noises. To Hermione, he sounded a lot like Harry when he spoke Parseltongue, but Hermione wasn't the one they needed to trick.

"Is Bellatrix a Parselmouth?" Ginny asked Draco. "How did she get in?"

"I have no clue," Draco answered. "Maybe she spelled it so only she could get in?"

Hermione shook her head. "That's not-" She cut herself off and tapped the snake. "Do you think she's in there? She's not on the map."

The small crowd fell silent. "Then we kill two birds with one stone," Ginny finally said. "Assuming we figure out how to open it."

Hermione rapidly tapped the tips of her fingers on the tile floor as she bit her bottom lip. She nodded to herself and gripped the edge of the sink. Draco reached out to help her stand, but she ignored him, grunting in pain when finally lifted herself to her feet. "Step back," she ordered everyone. "Get behind me. Ophelia, stay there."

Draco, Harry, and Ron exchanged a look, but Ginny corralled them behind Hermione. Hermione lifted her wand. "Wands out," she said. "Just in case." She took a deep breath. "Try to stay calm. It can't actually hurt you," she told Ophelia. _I think. "Serpensortia."_


End file.
